


The Trigger Series

by glacis



Category: General Hospital
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of brainwashed Lucky and brainscrambled Nikolas, Laura's boys, consisting of:  Variation (Tunnel) Nikolas throws Helena off the scent as they hide the body, and Lucky takes it a step further.  Variation (Yacht) Helena forgets to turn the switch off. The boys visit the docks.  Variation (Rave) Scoping out a killer and taking a wild ride.  Variation (Boxcar) Lucky's not alone in his search for answers.  Variation (Hospital), Nikolas shows his hand, Helena Takes Steps and Lucky pays the price, while Kevin gets caught in the middle.  Mind Games (Garrote) Lucky apologizes to Nikolas for Luke, (Videotape) Kevin apologizes to Mac for Helena, (Target) Lucky and Nikolas make discoveries, and (Endgame) Helena is trumped and Luke is stumped.  Autumn - Helena tries to commit Nikolas while Nikolas and Elizabeth commit to Lucky.  Final Phase -  Helena pulls the trigger.  Shattered - Laura's insane.  Luke's suicidal. Lucky needs some patching up.  Nikolas obliges.  Happens two years after Final Phase.  Set in 1999-2002.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trigger Series

The Trigger Arc: Variations on a Corpse, Mind Games, Autumn, Final Phase, and Shattered.  If the reader prefers to read it in it's original form (smaller chunks!) they can be found beginning [here](http://www.castleskeep.net/v1.html).

_Variations on a Corpse 1 (Tunnel)_

Finding Lucky in a motel room with Emily had been shock enough. Finding a naked dead guy in there with them was almost too much.

Wrapping the naked dead guy's arm around his neck and staggering outside like a trio of drunks placed the experience directly in the Twilight Zone.

By the time they'd wrestled the corpse into a boat, snuck back to the island and wrapped the rapidly-stiffening dead guy in a tarp Nikolas' brain had shut off all extraneous thought and was operating on instinct. Maybe crime was just in the Cassadine genes. Or maybe it was some previously unexpected tendencies in their mother's family tree that made it so easy for both young men to slip so naturally into the mechanics of concealing a murder.

Nikolas tended to think it was a little of both. Then he stopped thinking again, and panting slightly at the dead weight he was carrying, nodded toward the entrance to the tunnels that ran beneath Windemere. He had the glimmer of a plan in the animal instinct part of his brain that was concentrating on survival. His. Lucky's. Emily's. Elizabeth's. If they could get the dead guy hidden, and keep him hidden, then they just might be able to pull it off.

Nobody'd find him. Emily wouldn't be put away for a murder she didn't commit. And he, his brother, and Elizabeth wouldn't be thrown in prison for obstructing justice, accessory after the fact, and any number of felonies he was trying his damnedest not to think about.

Not thinking was a good plan. He'd stay with that.

There was a problem with the key latch, when they finally got to the old freezer he'd remembered, right where he'd remembered it. Lucky made some sarcastic comment, more fear than anger, and he'd snapped back, adrenaline making his temper short and his blood rush through his veins. He'd finally gotten the blasted latch open, and they'd pushed and shoved until they'd gotten the dead guy firmly hidden in the freezer.

It had been horrible. The limbs were stiff, just starting to soften, and it felt like he was playing tug-of-war with an oversized Gumby. At least the body hadn't started to smell yet. He wasn't looking forward to having to move it once the heat of the search was off. His brain shied away from nightmare visions of decay and limbs falling off as they were pulled.

Then Lucky froze. He stared over at his half-brother's wide, terrified sky blue eyes and wondered what could be making him sweat _now_? Lucky'd been pretty together with the whole thing so far, much more together than Nikolas himself. Then he heard it, too.

Heels. Tapping along the corridor toward them.

Oh, Mary, Mother of Mercy, his grandmother! He stared down at the freezer, imagining he could see huge neon letters painted across it flashing 'Corpse Inside! Look In Here!' He swung wildly around, losing the blessed detachment that had gotten him so far. So help him, if she came in here, there just might be two corpses sharing space in the freezer. She couldn't know. If she did, she'd hold it over him for the rest of his life, and he couldn't live like that.

A strong hand gripped his wrist. His eyes slid down to the fingers wrapped, white-knuckled, around his arm, then followed the attached arm up to his brother's completely panicked face.

"What do we do?" Lucky hissed. His eyes were huge, and he was the color of paper. The good kind, the linen stuff his uncle kept for personal letters.

Brain skittering around like a hamster on speed, Nikolas mentally threw up his hands and went with instinct again. If he could pull this off, he knew of one way to keep her from actually entering the tunnel.

"Trust me?" he whispered urgently. Lucky nodded immediately. Nikolas grinned, a manic look, he knew, but he couldn't help it. The whole damned situation was insane. "Don't say anything. Just follow my lead. And Lucky?" His brother nodded again, looking like one of those puppy dog car window dolls with the waggly head. "Think of Elizabeth!"

With that, he grabbed hold of his brother, leaned him back over the freezer now hiding a dead man's body, shifted so that the only thing his grandmother could see from the entryway was his back, the back of his head, and the blond hair he was now holding tightly. With any luck at all, she'd think Lucky was a girl, and after watching for a little while, because she was, after all, a Cassadine, so was a voyeur by nature, she'd leave. He could apologize, Lucky could punch him, the corpse would stay hidden and they'd all be safe.

At least, that was the plan.

 

Lucky's nerves were humming. He hadn't felt this wired since the last time he and his parents were on the run ... his mind turned away, encountering a block that he instinctively bypassed. Better to keep his mind on business.

Bizarre as this business was, it took everything he had to stay on track. Nikolas had been great, quick to catch on to exactly what was needed and, once the alternatives were spelled out a little, creative in finding ways to cope with the situation. There was a lot of their mother in him. Or maybe it was a Cassadine thing. Now that they'd finished hiding the body -- and how gruesome had _that_ been, yuck! -- Lucky was starting to shake and Nikolas was calm as could be.

He leaned against the freezer, shaking a little and trying to ignore it, panting from exertion and trying to get his heart to slow back down to normal. Over the rushing in his ears, he heard a sound that made his heart nearly stop.

Footsteps. In the corridor leading up to where they were. And he recognized them.

Helena.

He tried to warn Nikolas, but nothing would come out when he tried to talk. So he stared as hard as he could, first at his half-brother, then at the corridor. She's coming! his mind yelled. Not a sound escaped his mouth.

Somehow, Nikolas must have read his mind, or his panic, or maybe his hearing just caught up with him, because his eyes suddenly widened and he paled. Lucky worked his throat until he had enough spit to say something, and what came out was, "What do we do?" He grabbed hold of Nikolas instinctively, looking for an anchor in the middle of madness.

He could practically see the gears turning in Nikolas' mind. It was a good thing, because his own was stuck firmly in neutral. After a little time that felt like forever, Nikolas asked "Trust me?"

Lucky nodded automatically, and once he started, found he couldn't stop. Nikolas got this maniac grin on his face, his eyes lit up, and he moved very close.

"Don't say anything. Just follow my lead. And Lucky?"

He nodded again, or maybe it was a continuation of the nod he'd started before. His brain was completely shorted-out. Nikolas stepped right up to him and said something that made no sense at all.

"Think of Elizabeth!"

He finally stopped nodding, because Nikolas slid both hands into his hair and held his head immobile while he kissed the stuffing out of him. Pure shock made his jaw drop. Nikolas paused for a second, as if listening, but the only thing Lucky could hear was his heartbeat in his ears, drowning everything else out. He thought he heard Nikolas growl, "Damnit," but he wasn't sure.

Then Nikolas moved impossibly closer, his legs straddling Lucky's, pressing him against the cold metal of the freezer, bending him over it, laying on top of him. Lucky's mouth was still hanging open, partly in shock, partly to try to breathe with the full weight of his brother laying on him, and Nikolas was kissing all over his face, little kisses that felt like caterpillars crawling over his skin.

Deep in the fragment of his mind that wasn't in shock, he heard heel-taps pause. He remembered those heel-tapping sounds, could place a name and an emotion with them. Danger. Fear. Obedience. His memory did a funny little flip-flop and he wasn't in the tunnel under Windemere, he was in a cabin in the wilds of Canada, and Helena's voice was echoing in his head, over and over. "Nikolas must be happy. Elizabeth will make him happy. They belong together. You must do everything you can to make Nikolas happy."

Nikolas' voice joined it in a strange, dissonant harmony, minor tones making his skin itch. "Think of Elizabeth!"

"Do everything you can to make Nikolas happy."

"Think of Elizabeth!"

"Elizabeth will make him happy."

"Think of Elizabeth!"

Not knowing which way he was turning, only knowing his brother needed something, that it had to do with Elizabeth, that it was urgent, and that he had to do whatever Nikolas wanted that Elizabeth wasn't there to do, Lucky brought his hands up over Nikolas' shoulders and grabbed hold of his skull. Pulled the tormenting lips down to cover his own. Licked at the mouth gasping over his until it opened, and tasted the tongue behind the teeth.

He wasn't Elizabeth, but he'd do the best he could to make Nikolas happy.

 

Nikolas froze in shock, unintentionally mirroring his brother's posture from moments before. He didn't know when he'd lost control of the situation, but he certainly had. One minute, he was putting on a show to discourage his grandmother's tunnel explorations and their possible discovery; the next, Lucky was kissing him like he was a starving man and Nikolas was a banquet. It should have freaked him out.

It turned him on.

For one thing, Lucky knew what he was doing with that tongue of his. It was a furnace with a purpose, and it was burning him up from the inside. The heat extended further down, too. Lucky's body was twisting and writhing against his, and it felt incredibly hot, in every way.

For another thing, very dimly he could hear the retreat of heels echoing in the tunnel, and he knew the danger of discovery from Helena was past. But he couldn't seem to transmit the all-clear signal to his hands, which were buried in Lucky's hair, or to his mouth, that was participating all-too-happily in a truly lewd kiss, or to his body, that was perfectly happy to stay right where it was at.

Then the world started to move, and he gasped. Lucky swallowed the sound, and Nikolas realized that it wasn't the world, it was themselves. They were sliding off the freezer. He retained just enough awareness to make sure they landed as softly as possible, because Lucky sure as hell wasn't paying any attention.

That was because Lucky was too busy unbuttoning his fly and diving into his boxers.

Nikolas was moaning, and he couldn't do a damned thing about that, either. Just as he couldn't do anything to stop his brother from digging his erection out of his pants and putting it in his mouth. Well, maybe he could, but the only way he could would be to castrate himself, because as good as it felt, he never wanted to take his cock out of that wet heat ever again. He didn't know where Lucky had learned to do the things his tongue and lips were doing, but wherever it was, he thanked it. Wholeheartedly. Fervidly.

Too far gone to do anything but hang on for the ride, it was very little time before he was attempting to grunt out a warning. Lucky ignored him. He stared down in disbelief at his brother's face, eyes closed, sucking hard, the bulk stretching his cheek the end of his own cock. It was amazing. Unbelievable. Incredible.

Incredibly good.

Then he was coming, and Lucky was swallowing, and he could barely see past the blurring of his eyes at the fact that Lucky's jeans were also open, and he had his cock in his hand, and he was coming too. It was icing on the cake. Too much. Nikolas came so hard he nearly passed out.

Lying flat on his back, Lucky curled up between his thighs, Nikolas panted, sweat rolling off his skin. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell had just happened, and what he was supposed to do next. There was a stirring below belt level, and he raised his head just far enough to see Lucky efficiently tucking him back in his boxers and buttoning up his fly. Nikolas' head felt like it was stuffed with concrete, but his body was light as a feather.

Still wondering what to say, he cleared his throat. "Lucky?" he asked hesitantly. His voice sounded funny. Raspy. He wondered vaguely if he'd been screaming, then mentally shrugged. If nothing else it would add verisimilitude to his little 'making out in the tunnel' ploy to throw off his grandmother.

Not that the appearance of truth was needed, since he'd just gotten the blow job of his life.

"Think she bought it?"

Lucky sounded so ... normal! Nikolas glared up at him. His half-brother was standing beside him in his familiar slouch, combing his hair back out of his eyes. His clothes were neat, his expression calm. The only indication there was that he'd been sucking Nikolas like a hungry anaconda moments before was his slightly swollen, reddened mouth.

"Uh ... yeah," Nikolas said very slowly. Lucky smiled at him. Nikolas blinked.

"Cool. Let's get out of here, then," Lucky told him, way too damned cheerfully. He extended a hand to help Nikolas up.

Nikolas took it. Kept hold of it. Stood up and stared into Lucky's face.

Lucky's bewildered face. "Nikolas?"

"Yes?" he responded, all reasonable tone and encouraging expression.

"Hand?" Lucky asked, tugging gently. Nikolas let him go.

"You want to talk about it?" Nikolas stepped around him as Lucky turned to go. Lucky looked confused.

"Why? It's over, it worked. I'm cool with it. Now let's get out of here before she decides to come back and check it out, okay?" He shrugged one shoulder, tossing Nikolas a smile, then ducked around him and headed up out of the tunnel.

Nikolas stared after him. "Okay," he said quietly, feeling as confused as Lucky had looked. Something was wrong with his brother. They were going to talk about it. He wouldn't push, but when Lucky was ready, he'd be there.

 

Lucky breathed a sigh of relief when they got to the dock. Nikolas was acting weird, too quiet, watching him too closely. He didn't know what the big deal was. Helena had almost caught them hiding the dead guy, and Nikolas had put on a big show of kissing him to throw her off the scent. It wasn't like it hadn't been necessary, and it hadn't been gross, so he didn't know why his brother was putting up such a stink about it.

Okay, so he could admit, if only to himself, that he'd kind of liked the kiss. And it was a little fuzzy, actually. There was the kiss, then Nikolas lying on the floor looking like somebody kicked him, and no Helena. The only thing Lucky could figure was that he'd automatically pushed Nikolas off once Helena was gone, but he didn't remember it, so he didn't want to bring it up. If he apologized for pushing Nikolas, then Nikolas would apologize for kissing Lucky.

And he didn't want to hear it. Because then he'd have to admit just how much he _had_ enjoyed it. Even if only to himself. Better they just let it lie.

The boat ride back to Port Charles was quiet, but he didn't break the silence. He just sat as close as possible to Nikolas, ignoring the strange looks, trying to let him know without actually saying anything that it was okay, _they_ were okay. Then they were back at Kelly's, and back in the thick of things, and he did his best to concentrate on the present and just let it go.

Just let it go.

 

_Variations on a Corpse 2 (Yacht)_

Helena Cassadine stared at the CD recorder in shock. There was a traitor aboard. A viper nestled to her breast. It was exceedingly difficult to get within her barriers, so the fact that anyone she had trusted so close to her should then betray her was intolerable.

The interview, or interrogation, of Andreas was disappointing, to say the least. But he did suggest others who might seek to harm her, perhaps in truth, perhaps in a desperate attempt to save himself. It was worth investigating. She sent him off in search of Lucky Spencer and sat quietly, staring at nothing, her mind racing. Was Stefan alive? Could this be part of a plot? Was it Jax? Or one of her minions, paid blood-money by one of her enemies? Perhaps even Natasha? Foolish chit. If that was the truth, she would pay dearly.

Whomever was responsible for infiltrating her home would pay dearly.

When young Master Spencer was brought into her presence, he showed a distressing tendency toward arrogance. She smiled down into his bright, intelligent eyes. He simply had no idea with whom he was dealing. No idea whatsoever of the control she had over his mind.

He turned to stomp away, all wounded dignity and heartbreaking youth. She called out to him, the ring of command in her voice, "Protect your queen!"

Turning back, the belligerence had disappeared, leaving malleability in those lovely blue eyes. She put the question to him directly, had he turned on her?

He asked her, in all innocence, why he would do such a thing. For weren't they friends?

She smiled at him, all loving kindness. Of course they were friends. Well, he was a tool and she was the master wielder of that tool, but his conception of their friendship was a delightful aspect of the shaping of that tool. She waved him away, distracted for a moment by memories of the cabin in the woods, long dark nights in front of a fire, his strong young body moving over hers, moving under Andreas' for her pleasure. He had been such an apt pupil. It ran in the blood.

His mother was a whore, as well.

Returning to the present from pleasant recollection, she realized she'd forgotten to bring him out of his suggestible state. Ah, well, she sighed inwardly. There was no harm done. The only actions he could take in this state were those she had programmed so carefully into him. No one would be hurt. Everything she did, she smiled to herself, was for her beloved grandson Nikolas.

Any residual power she gained from the arrangement was merely her due for her hard work and allegiance to her family.

 

Lucky was moving automatically. His thoughts were blank. He was a creature of instinct in his current state, a slate wiped clean and re-written in Helena Cassadine's bold hand. Every flourish had a powerful dual purpose -- protect his Queen and serve his Prince. It was all too medieval, but she was the potentate of a Greek island and the inheritor of generations of rule. It came naturally to her. He did as she bade, even as he was completely unaware of it.

Rounding the corner to Kelly's, he saw Elizabeth in Nikolas' arms. They were kissing, his half-brother's hands running up and down the slender back of the woman he had believed he loved.

Until it had been drummed into him that Elizabeth was not his. She belonged with Nikolas.

Instinct warred with emotion, and resulted in an unbreachable wall coming up between his lady love and himself. Wild jealousy of Nikolas was subsumed by a true need not to hurt the other man, and tipped over the scale by the requirement impressed upon him to serve his brother. He barely paused walking up to them.

Elizabeth gave him a very strange look, and he smiled serenely at her. They were good for each other, she and Nikolas, and he told her so, as he had so often been told. She turned with what could only be called a huff and flounced into the cafe. Now it was Nikolas giving him the strange look. Almost ... disappointed.

A gaggle of people came wandering up the walkway, and Nikolas gave them an impatient look. Grabbing hold of Lucky's shoulder, he pulled him away from the crowd, down to a deserted part of the docks. Lucky went along docilely.

"Why are you letting me do this?" Nikolas asked when they were alone, his voice a blend of anger and confusion.

Lucky shrugged helplessly. Independent thought and logic weren't part of his programming. His will was subject to Nikolas completely, due in part to his own love for his brother and emphasized by Helena's tinkering with his mind over the year of his imprisonment.

"I want you to have whatever you want," he tried to explain. Nikolas sighed, the anger bleeding out and the confusion taking over.

"I want _you_ to be happy, Lucky! That would make me happy."

Flashes of memory stabbed at Lucky. Fire, contained, and heat, from him and over him. Tanned skin shivering below his mouth, under his hands, moving against him. Scented cotton and soft bedding, Helena's voice commanding him in the background, slickness in his grasp, embedded in him, surrounding him.

The memories, fragmentary as they were, overlapped the present, and his hand reached out to touch Nikolas' mouth, which was still moving. He knew the taste of that mouth. Knew what it sounded like when it cried out in completion. Needed that sound now.

His hands moved and his body followed. Nikolas reached up to push him away, hold him closer, he didn't know. But he didn't fight. Lucky stayed still, and Nikolas pulled him close.

Everything was heat, and wind, and need, and driving instinct.

 

Elizabeth must have seen Lucky over his shoulder, because one minute they were talking about making him jealous, making his see the truth of his feelings for her, and the next minute she was in his arms.

She tasted good.

Nikolas tried not to think of the last person he'd kissed like this. Lucky had shown no indication whatsoever that he wanted to talk about what had happened in the tunnel beneath Windemere, and he was respecting his brother's wishes. Even if he didn't understand them in the least. Maybe it had just been frustration. Maybe it was a hold-over from being kidnapped -- God only knew what that creep Faison had done to him. Nikolas had no way of telling, but he'd been watching, ever since that afternoon.

As soon as Lucky was ready to talk, Nikolas was there.

Until then, he'd do whatever he could to get his half-brother back together with the woman he loved. The woman who loved him.

So he put every ounce of play-passion into the kiss that he could. In the back of his mind came the thought that he was getting pretty good at pretend kisses. Then Elizabeth was moving out of his arms, putting on a convincing act of startlement, hoping to draw a reaction from Lucky.

They got one. It wasn't quite what they were expecting.

The crazy idiot actually beamed at them. Looked happy for them. Proud of them for finally coming to their senses ... about one another. Nikolas could have cheerfully punched him. Not that it would have done much good. Lucky could be amazingly stubborn.

Elizabeth gave Lucky a surprised look that quickly melted into irritation, all the more evident in the face of Lucky's benign smile. Nikolas gave her the most reassuring look he could, then opened his mouth to ask Lucky what the hell was going on. Before he could get a word out, a bunch of locals on the hunt for lunch came jabbering up the sidewalk.

Irritated and frustrated, he took hold of Lucky's shoulder and dragged him down to the docks, where they could have some privacy. He'd had enough of waiting for Lucky to come to him. He was going to get to the bottom of this. Once they were far enough away that no one else was in ear-shot, or eye-sight, for that matter, he rounded on his brother.

"Why are you letting me do this?" he demanded. The frustration he couldn't hide came through loud and clear in the question.

Lucky shrugged. Nikolas again fought down the urge to hit him. Lucky was staring at him like a little kid, all big eyes and mute tongue. It made Nikolas insane when he got like that. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it was like Lucky's brain went on vacation and left his body behind.

Eventually Lucky spoke, but Nikolas wasn't happy with what he said. "I want you to have whatever you want."

"I want _you_ to be happy, Lucky! That would make me happy." He was practically growling by this point. "Something really weird is going on with you! And I want to know what it is!" Not getting anything more than a blank look at his preemptory tone, he moderated it, going for a plea when a command hadn't worked. "You know you can talk to me, right? I'm here for you, you know that. Anything you want, whatever you need, I'll do whatever I can, can't you just talk to me?"

Lucky didn't talk to him. Lucky kissed him.

His brother had done it again. He moved faster than Nikolas expected, sort of gliding over to him and pressing him against the wall. Pinning him there with his body. Sliding his hands over Nikolas' arms, his shoulders, down his sides, around his back. Nikolas tried to protest, but his body remembered what had happened the last time Lucky did something like this, and it betrayed him. It pretty well melted into Lucky's arms.

Then Lucky's tongue was in his mouth, Lucky's hands were up under his shirt then winding down into his pants, and his brain lost the battle to his body.

"This isn't right," he managed to mumble once Lucky finally let go of his lips, but his brother didn't hear him. Then he forgot how to talk as Lucky's hands began to work at his crotch. The brick of the wall was rough against his newly-bared buttocks, and he arched away from it. The move put him firmly into Lucky's grasp, and his brother took full advantage of the fact.

A little part of his mind must still have been on alert, because he was looking around frantically to make sure nobody came across them. There was no way in hell he'd be able to explain this, and he didn't relish the thought of trying. Then Lucky was closing in on him again, one hand up in his hair, one pulling on his cock, and he screamed when he came. Screamed into Lucky's mouth.

The instinct for self-preservation was working for both of them, it seemed.

Lassitude crept up his body, and he offered no resistance when Lucky turned him to face the wall. His hands came up to push his face away from the bricks, and a hand behind him began to work sticky fluid between his ass cheeks. The foray into virgin territory froze him in his tracks, but he was too relaxed from his orgasm to do much more than stand there, shaking, and try not to fall over. Closing his legs was beyond him.

He also didn't resist when Lucky moved up behind him, and the fingers that had been stretching him were replaced with something hotter and wider and longer. Lucky was gentle, and took his time, and Nikolas didn't know whether to appreciate it or hate him for it.

It would have been easier on his self-respect to hate him, so Nikolas wouldn't have to hate himself. But he couldn't. And his body certainly didn't.

Lucky pushed forward, and Nikolas caught himself before he went chin-first into the wall. The backward motion as he steadied himself pushed him further onto Lucky's cock, and the sensation made his breath catch in his chest. Then Lucky was thrusting into him, each stroke taking him up on his toes slightly, as his knees started to give out. He was hard again, and he didn't know when that had happened. He only realized it when Lucky's hand came around his hip and took hold of him.

From there, it was a fast slide into oblivion. Lucky pumped harder, holding him and within him, and very soon he was coming again, gritting his teeth to keep from yelling as he splattered semen all over the wall and Lucky's fingers. Then Lucky humped into him two, maybe three times rapidly, and he could feel the muscles inside being washed with hot spray as Lucky's orgasm hit.

They stood that way for a long moment, until Lucky softened enough to slip out of him. Nikolas felt fluid dripping down the back and inside of his thighs. Oddly, it made his sore cock jump a little. He looked down at himself in disbelief. Before his exhausted flesh could realize that it was, indeed, exhausted, he felt movement behind him.

Looking back over his shoulder, he was jolted to see Lucky's shaggy blond head below waist level. Then long fingers were pulling his cheeks apart and a tongue was rasping over the sensitive tissue, cleaning up the mess. This time he had to muffle the moan by biting the side of his hand.

He was collapsed against the building by the time Lucky finished, so enervated by the whole experience he barely felt it when his brother pulled his jeans up and tucked his shirt neatly in. Then those hands were on his shoulders again, turning him around.

"You okay?" Lucky asked him quietly, fingers busy straightening up his clothes.

Nikolas stared at him, speechless. Lucky leaned in, then, and kissed him. He opened his mouth before he thought about it, then shrugged and leaned into the kiss. It didn't taste that bad, and besides, if he was kissing Lucky, he didn't have to try to find something intelligent to _say_ to Lucky. Since he figured he'd shot his brains out all over that wall along with his climax, any delay in trying to regain his thoughts was probably just as well.

When the kiss finally ended, Lucky stared at him for the longest time. There were emotions deep in his eyes, and Nikolas stared hard at him, trying to read them. Confusion, and contentment, and a hint of fear.

It was the fear that decided him.

"I'm okay," he lied. "Are _you_ okay?" And will you tell me if you're not?

The confusion overtook the fear. "I'm fine. We'd better go. We need to touch base with Emily. About the blackmailer."

On that abrupt transition to Real Life as They Knew It, Lucky turned and walked back toward Kelly's. Nikolas was slow to follow. Not just because his ass was sore.

Because there was something radically wrong with his brother, and he was damned sure going to get to the bottom of it. By the time they were back at the diner, he had one good idea of the cause of the strangeness, if not the problem itself.

Helena. Lucky'd been fine until he went to see her. Then he came back and ... and ... and fucked his brother up against the wall. The same sort of thing had happened in the tunnel. Lucky'd been fine, if a little freaked out by the fact that they were hiding a dead body, until she showed up. Then he'd given Nikolas the blow job of his life, and walked away like nothing had happened.

Just like this time.

Determined to find out what was up with Lucky, and what his grandmother had to do with it, Nikolas did his best to ignore the various aches in his body and keep his eyes wide open.

 

Lucky stalked back toward Kelly's, wondering how in the hell he'd gotten from Helena's yacht to a back alley on the docks, and what on Earth he'd done to Nikolas to give him that shattered look. It wasn't the first time he'd been so distracted by things that he hadn't really noticed what was going on around him, but it had to stop.

It was starting to hurt Nikolas. That was the only explanation he could come up with for the way his half-brother had looked at him. And he himself was exhausted, so whatever he'd done, it had to've been something drastic. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to turn back to Nikolas and ask him what had happened.

This was his problem. He'd find a way to handle it.

Without hurting anybody else.

 

_Variations on a Corpse 3 (Rave_)

Gia stared at the three boys and the goody-two-shoes girl she'd ended up being forced to help, disgust strong in her expression. The chick was off flirting with a man mountain, the dark-headed guy couldn't keep his hands off her -- and she wasn't getting paid for that, no matter how much money he had -- and Blondie was bouncing back and forth like a rubber ball. The little rock star wannabe was a nobody, so she ignored him.

This wasn't her gig.

She needed the money, and she'd thought she saw an opportunity when Ms. Moneybags Teen Slut went into the motel room with Ted. It had been sweet, for a little while. Then Blondie had gotten all hot under the collar and started stalking her. Okay, he had held off the cops down at the dock, and God knew she didn't want Taggart to see her, but his attitude all the way had been totally over the top. Breaking into her room? Threatening her? Following her?

The stare morphed into a glare. Okay, so he was cute, by far the cutest thing she'd seen since hitting Port Charles. But he was way too caught up with Little Miss Q. He was _uptight_. Feed him coal he'd crap a diamond uptight. She glanced around the room and watched the dancers for a little while, ignoring Dark and Broody beside her. A boy stroking his friend's hair, over and over, an ecstatic expression on his face, brought an evil thought to her mind.

Blondie really needed to relax. Pretending to look around for anybody she might recognize from the motel parking lot, as she was getting paid to do -- Ha! -- she casually dug into her back pocket and popped a tab from a card hidden there. Bringing her water bottle out, she dropped it in with a move nobody saw, certainly not the little dorks hovering around her like Junior Detectives.

As she'd expected, Blondie bounced over to them and started questioning her. She gave him some attitude, just enough to get him a little hot and crazy, then waited until Broody turned away and offered him her bottle. He gave her a suspicious look.

"Chill," she told him with a perfectly played, uncaring shrug. "You're all red in the face and look like you're gonna stroke out. So I thought I'd be nice. Forget it."

He still looked suspicious, but this time he did take the bottle. Sipped it. Before he could hand it back, she poked Broody in the arm. "That guy!" she said, pointing to the wall in the muscle shirt Elizabeth-never-call-me-Liz was coming on to. Blondie took another absent swallow, this time a nice healthy gulp. She grinned.

Then she set them on the guy, who she really _had_ seen at the motel, and stepped back to watch the fireworks.

Blondie jumped in between Goody and the wall with suicidal enthusiasm. It was pretty cute, in a clueless surfer kind of way. She looked him over; yeah, he looked just as good from behind as from in front. Unfortunately, he was also all over Goody. She sighed. What a waste of good stuff.

Shrugging off a missed opportunity, half convinced he'd sit in the corner and play with himself before he went for her anyway, she absently shook off Broody's offer of a ride. She could take care of herself.

And she'd had more than enough of the nerd gang for one night.

 

Nikolas watched Lucky intently as the four of them updated Emily on the hunt for Ted's killer. His half-brother was oddly relaxed for such a dangerous night, almost slumped over in his chair, running his hands over and over the table top. It was freaky. He wondered if this was an aspect of whatever it was that was wrong with Lucky. That led him to wonder if Lucky was going to jump up, jump _him_, right then and there, and shock the life out of the girls -- and Juan, not that he counted.

Before the second thought could do anything really embarrassing, like make him so hard he couldn't walk, he stood up. "That's really about all there was to it. We've got an id on the guy, now we just have to go back and find out what we can about him. Next rave, right?" He glanced over at Juan, who was looking at him resentfully.

Nothing new there.

Emily was nodding, and Elizabeth was watching Lucky. Lucky was tracing abstract patterns in the table cloth with a concentration usually only seen in bomb disposal squads on a hot call. Nikolas shook his head.

"It's late," Elizabeth suddenly announced. Everyone but Lucky looked at her. "We should get some rest and talk about this tomorrow. Uhm, later today."

"Good idea," Emily chimed in. "Lucky, you need a ride home?"

Not knowing what prompted it, but going with his gut instinct, Nikolas interrupted before Lucky could answer, if he would have answered. "I'll take him home. You'd better get back home before your parents get too worried."

Emily smiled up at him. Elizabeth gave her a hug and him a worried look, before staring once more at Lucky. "Night, everybody."

Everyone, except Lucky, echoed her. Lucky was still painting invisible signs on the table. Emily paused at Lucky's side, but Juan swept her up in an attempt at machismo ownership that impressed no one. Nikolas walked over and tapped his brother on the shoulder.

"You ready to go home?" he asked. Lucky finally looked up, although his fingers didn't stop tracing.

"Hi," he answered, smiling up at Nikolas. His eyes were soft and unfocused, but his smile was blinding.

Nikolas' body did what it seemed to be doing much too often lately, and hardened to attention at Lucky's expression. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look closer at the somewhat vacant look on Lucky's face.

Yeah. It looked like the other times when Lucky's brain had checked out, and his body had checked in -- to Nikolas'. Only this time Helena was nowhere in sight. Not willing to leave Lucky alone in that condition, half-fearing and half-anticipating what would happen when they were alone _together_ while Lucky was in that condition, Nikolas caught his half-brother's arm in his and pulled him up from the chair.

"C'mon, bro, been a long night. Let's get you to bed." He winced at the image his words brought to his mind, then determinedly ignored them. Maybe tonight, he could finally get Lucky to talk to him. If nothing else, perhaps he could find out what had triggered him to zone out. It couldn't have been Helena.

Unless Helena had somehow been at the rave?

He tried to wrap his mind around that idea all the way to Lucky's room. No matter how he twisted it, it didn't fit. His grandmother could infiltrate any number of surprising places. A warehouse full of teenagers dancing their feet off wasn't one of them.

By the time they got to the hall outside Lucky's room, his brother was listing sideways like a boat taking on water. He'd transferred his tactile explorations to Nikolas, who wasn't sure whether to be irritated or extremely turned on by the feather-light touches all along his back and butt. His brain was leaning toward irritated; it was getting tired of Lucky winding him up like a sex toy then walking away afterward as if nothing had happened. His body couldn't care less about the aftermath; it knew those fingers, and it wanted more.

Lucky was muttering something under his breath, and it took awhile for Nikolas to figure out what he was saying. "Soft, warm, soft, warm, yeah, oh, yeah, soft," over and over, sounding totally spaced out. This was different. Nikolas stopped at the door.

"Got your key?" he asked, trying to retain his patience. He was fighting not to either dump his brother on his ass in the hallway and leave him, or prop him up against the wall and have at him. Lucky grinned blankly up at him and lifted his hands, briefly, from their wanderings over Nikolas' black jeans. He sighed.

Prying Lucky off him far enough to rummage through his pants pockets, he was a little relieved to note very little hardening in the basket. Whatever was going through Lucky's fried little brain it apparently had little to do with sex. More disappointed by that than he cared to admit, determined not to take advantage of his brother in this state again and refusing to remember just who'd jumped whom last time, Nikolas felt around until he finally retrieved the door key.

Lucky leaned into him and snuffled his neck. A shiver chased its way all the way down his spine. "Unfair," he protested weakly, managing to wrestle the door open and haul Lucky into the room, kicking it closed behind them.

Unfair or not, Lucky seemed to be on a mission. Wicked hands were burrowing under his shirt, and he tried hard to wriggle away, nearly tearing the material in the process.

"C'mon, Lucky," he tried again for reason. Then with a move he hadn't been expecting at all, his half-brother flipped him over onto the bed on his back and climbed on top of him while Nikolas was still trying to figure out how the hell _that_ had happened.

At that point, he remembered all too clearly who'd been the initiator every time they'd had sex. The kiss in the tunnel didn't count. It had been pretend.

Hadn't it?

Didn't it?

Lucky had known that it hadn't been real.

Hadn't he?

There was a thought trying to form in his brain, but it was being swamped by sheer unadulterated horniness as Lucky stripped him, using every opportunity to stroke his body as he did. He seemed to be absolutely mesmerized by Nikolas' skin, smoothing it with his hands, lapping at it with his tongue, rubbing his entire body against it like a cat scenting its territory. With a dexterity Nikolas was coming to recognize, Lucky managed to strip both of them, not losing contact from some part of his body the entire time.

By the time Nikolas conceded that he had no control at all over what was happening, Lucky had him supine on the bed and was straddling him. His hands were sweeping over Nikolas' chest, arms, groin and upper thighs, he was kissing everywhere his hands were touching, and he wouldn't stop muttering to himself about how soft and warm it all was. Nikolas could appreciate the heat. He didn't really think soft applied. He was hard enough to drive nails with his cock.

But he was the only one. He stopped writhing long enough to notice that Lucky still wasn't completely hard. He also was taking foreplay past stoking the fire and into the realm of torture. Pleas were falling from his own mouth for Lucky to get on with it and fuck him, for God's sake, long before Lucky finally did anything about it. Nikolas was close to spontaneous combustion by the time Lucky raised up, held his erection at the base, and sat down on it.

Nikolas howled like a wolf at the full moon.

For all the foreplay, there'd been no preparation, and while Lucky was incredibly relaxed, he was also incredibly tight. Nikolas felt like his foreskin had been tied to his balls, sheared off by the grip now holding him, stuck in a hole that was three sizes too small, a naked quivering nerve with a blow torch applied to it.

He'd never felt anything so intense in his life. One useful benefit of the initial shock of pain was that it kept him from coming immediately. That was good, as Lucky was riding him now, balanced on his knees, shifting up and down, the frown lines beside his mouth slowly smoothing out to dimples as the way eased. Nikolas was leaking, and that helped a little. As they moved, his hands reached up to settle on Lucky's hips, and his pelvis thrust against the weight pinning him down, into the heat holding him.

Lucky's head fell back, and Nikolas found himself caught, staring at the length of his brother's throat, the sheen of sweat across his chest, the way the muscles worked in his groin as he moved up and down. His cock still wasn't completely hard, and Nikolas reached out for it with one hand, pulling it gently in time with their rocking motion. Lucky's eyes drifted open and he smiled down at Nikolas. It was the most wanton expression he'd ever seen.

"Soft," Lucky whispered.

"Not if I have anything to do about it," Nikolas panted, working his wrist and milking with his fingers until Lucky was hard.

Lucky's hands had left Nikolas' body and were now roaming his own chest, playing with his nipples, twisting them and pulling at them. Nikolas was starting to lose his rhythm, urgency taking him over, and he thrust up as hard as he could, needing more, needing to come. Lucky responded, pushing down as hard as he was pushing up, and they slammed together, skin sliding, sounding wetly obscene in the silent room.

It felt like it took forever before he could finally give in, determined not to come until Lucky did, and his brother seemingly content to ride him forever. Eventually, finally, Lucky arched over him, hot liquid squirting between his fingers, landing on his stomach. The clench of muscle around him was the last straw, and he thrashed helplessly under Lucky's weight as his orgasm shook him.

When he could breathe again, and see again, and shift just enough to get Lucky's body to release his cock, Nikolas tried to find something to say. Again. Nothing much came to mind. Are you insane? Are you drugged? Where's your pod? When can we do this again? None of them were much use as a conversation starter, and none of the etiquette lessons his uncle had drilled into him over the years really seemed to fit this situation.

His mind wandered back over his admittedly derailed train of thought.

Insane? No, but there was something going on. Pod? Only in a Spielberg movie. But drugged ... that was a possibility. Thinking hard, he traced what he remembered of the evening, and an image popped out. Gia, handing Lucky her water bottle. Encouraging him to drink from it.

Not drinking from it herself.

The protective side of him raged up, primed to find her and strangle her with her own glittery, ribbon-wrapped dreads. The lustier side, the one he was trying really hard to pretend didn't exist, the one that had thoroughly enjoyed the athletic finish of the evening and couldn't wait for more, joined chorus with his internal voice of reason to inform him bluntly that while she may have drugged Lucky, _he_ was the one who'd fucked him.

There were times when he hated that logical little voice in the back of his head. This was one of them.

Taking as deep a breath as he could given the boneless weight of his brother draped over the top of him, he asked quietly, "Lucky? Are you all right?"

No answer.

Nikolas swallowed dryly. They'd gotten a little carried away at the end, and he might well have hurt him. He unwrapped his arms from around Lucky's back and tried to lift him up so he could see his brother's face, make sure he was okay.

Lucky hung from his hands like a bag of potatoes. Nikolas looked at the slack, sound asleep features, and gave up. Yes, they had to talk; yes, they had to get down to the bottom of what was happening, both to Lucky and between the two of them; and yes, he might have to hunt Gia down and beat her up for messing with his brother. But then he'd have to beat himself up, for messing with him even more.

And they sure as hell weren't going to do any talking with Lucky passed out cold in the bed beside him.

Giving it up as a bad deal, at least for the moment, he rolled Lucky as gently as he could off himself and on to the bed. Long arms reached out for him and he plucked a pillow from the head of the bed, giving them something to hold onto. He brushed the sweaty hair back from Lucky's face and, shaking his head, kissed him lightly on the temple.

Tomorrow. He'd see if Lucky remembered any of this. They'd go from there.

It was turning out to be one hell of a trip.

 

_Variations on a Corpse 4 (Boxcar)_

Lucky came awake slowly. The rave had been a success, in a way; they'd found the killer. Now they just had to get enough evidence on him to put him away, without putting Emily away right beside him, or getting themselves all killed in the process.

He stretched, then winced. His muscles hurt, and his head was a little hazy. It wasn't like he had a hangover, more like ... he was well used. A phrase his dad used to say popped up in his head : Rode hard and put away wet. He didn't know why it should feel so appropriate, but it was.

Then memory hit him with the force of a sledgehammer to the skull as he was climbing out of bed and he nearly fell flat on his face.

Oh, no. He'd had sex. With Nikolas. Last night. After the Rave.

With _Nikolas_.

How? Why? What had happened?

Giving up on any attempt to begin the new day until he could sort out what had happened the previous night, Lucky collapsed against the pillows and tried to think. His memories were a little whacked, but at least they were there. Since discovering accidentally the other day in conversation with Emily that there were great gaping holes in his memory, he'd been nervous about losing more time.

This time wasn't lost. It was just nuts.

But it had been good.

One hand trailed absently down his body, coming to rest against his cock, just beginning to wake up to the possibilities. Spreading his thighs and leaning further back against the pillows, he let his fingers explore further back. Definitely touchy. A little sore, and somehow tenderized.

Not in a bad way.

The thought brought him up short, and he snatched his hand away from himself as if he'd touched fire. Forcing himself to concentrate, he was able to bring up scattered images of the previous night. Lights. Loud music. Gia, being a bitch. Elizabeth, facing down a killer. The table at Kelly's. Soft skin. Lots of soft warm brown skin.

Jumping his brother. Pinning him to the bed. Not letting him get away.

Rode hard and put away wet was a better description of what'd happened than he'd first thought. His subconscious was talking loud and clear to his id, and the message was a bizarre one.

Nikolas hadn't fought him, but then, he hadn't given his half-brother much of a chance _to_ fight. He'd been all over him like green on grass, feeling him up, tossing him down, fucking himself on him. He vaguely remembered Nikolas saying something about it being unfair.

That was one way to put it.

At least he remembered it this time. A shudder ran through him as another thought struck him. It felt ... familiar. Not like this was the first time. Not with Nikolas, or perhaps not just with Nikolas, but at all. He'd known what to do. His body had been familiar with having sex with a guy, even if his brain was in shock over it. He'd done it before. A lot.

During those times when he had a hole in his memory.

When Faison had him.

He was in the bathroom throwing up as soon as the ramifications of that thought hit him.

When he could drag himself to his feet, he scrubbed his face and brushed his teeth, tongue, pallet and would've brushed halfway down his throat if he could have reached. The thought of having sex with that creepy bastard was enough to make his stomach heave again. At least with Nikolas it hadn't been disgusting.

The thought made him pause, toothbrush poised over his tongue. He explored it, much as he'd probe a sore tooth, to see how it ached.

It hadn't been disgusting. The opposite, in fact. It had been good. Disturbingly good.

And familiar.

Blowing off work, blowing off Emily, blowing off life in general, he tossed the toothbrush in the sink and went off to search for his half-brother. His questions had just doubled, and he'd had a load of them to begin with. It just kept getting weirder by the minute.

 

After tucking his brother in for the night, Nikolas had let himself out quietly. He spent the next two hours staring up at his bedroom ceiling, then gave it up at six and went for a long walk, hoping to clear his head.

His world was disintegrating. His uncle, his surrogate father, was missing and presumed murdered. He presumed his grandmother had done it; the police assumed Luke Spencer had done it. Not that he had much use for Luke, but he loved his half-brother, and Lucky needed to find out who'd murdered Stefan as badly as Nikolas did.

Then there was Emily. As close as he came to a little sister, and another anchor in Lucky's life that was now adrift. One stupid mistake, and suddenly she was naked in bed with a stranger, a _dead_ stranger, blackmailed about it, targeted and possibly stalked by a killer, and sure to be up on for murder charges in the death of an undercover cop if they couldn't find a way to prove it was the drug dealer at the rave who'd done it.

Which led them to Gia, who might or might not have drugged Lucky the previous night, so he might or might not remember the fact that they ended up in bed together. Again. Which led him right back to his brother.

Who had something wrong with him. Something that enabled him to jump Nikolas on a semi-regular basis, then walk away as if nothing had happened.

Or as if Lucky didn't _know_ that anything had happened. Circling that thought cautiously, poking at it while letting his feet wander, Nikolas tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle he did have together. The first time Lucky'd jumped him, Helena's presence had been the trigger. The second time had been right after Lucky'd been to see her on her yacht. The third time -- his mind boggled for a second at the fact that they'd had sex three times already before he forced it back on track -- the third time, she hadn't been anywhere around. But the third time might not fit the pattern. Might be an anomaly.

Might just be to make him nuts.

Shaking off an odd combination of desperation and horniness, Nikolas looked up to figure out where he was. It seemed appropriate when he identified his surroundings. He was standing in front of the boxcar where Lucky had been presumed killed.

When he was actually kidnapped. By Faison. And held for a year. After which, he reappeared, but things were different.

_Lucky_ was different.

A stray thought hit him, and he stared off into the distance, deep in thought. If the odd behavior did have something to do with what happened to him while he was held prisoner, could Faison and Helena somehow be tied together? It was a new thought, and an unpleasant one. It pointed to collusion of the worst kind.

It had his grandmother's fingerprints all over it.

Sitting on the edge of the car, he leaned back and rested his weight on the palms of his hands. His fingers brushed paper, and he glanced over his shoulder. A notebook. That was strange. Nobody came out here, that he knew of, except Lucky ... his hand was closing over the binding before he finished the thought. Leafing through the pages, he recognized his half-brother's writing.

Puzzling through the words, he tried to figure out what Lucky had been trying to do with the notebook. It looked like a diary, or an attempt at re-creating one, covering the time Lucky spent as Faison's prisoner. He glanced through it, then sat up and read through it again with more attention.

A noise brought his head up, and he stared straight up into Emily's wide eyes. She looked like she'd seen a ghost, staring at the notebook in his hands. He was abruptly aware that he was, in a way, trespassing. This was Lucky's notebook, in Lucky's place, and he was the interloper. His jaw clenched. It didn't matter. He loved Lucky, and he'd do whatever he had to do to find out what was going on. Deciding that offense was the best defense, he spoke before she had a chance.

"What's going on, Emily? You know something. I can see it on your face."

She stared mutely at him, hands fluttering uselessly in the air. He took a deep breath.

"Something's wrong with Lucky. You know it, and I know it, but I think you know more about it than I do." He deliberately softened his tone, inviting confidence now, not demanding it. She looked like she was about to run away. "I want to help. But I can't if I don't know what's going on. C'mon, Emily. He's my brother. Help me to help him."

Her eyes were filling with tears and her chin was trembling. He felt like a bully, but he also felt like he had to do this, had to get her to talk to him. He was beginning to lose hope that she'd ever say anything when she finally threw both hands up in the air.

"I can't do this anymore!" she wailed.

He moved toward her, shifting to hop down off the lip of the door, but she skittered away, so he stopped. "Can't do what, Emily?" he asked gently.

"Can't be in the middle. Not between Elizabeth and Lucky, not between you and Lucky. You have to talk to him about it. I can't tell you. I can't!" With that, she ran off, head down, scrambling through the bushes.

He considered going after her, then decided being alone -- or with Juan, though God knew why she'd want him -- would be the best thing for her. At least until she calmed down. He settled back down in the boxcar and flipped through the notebook again, trying to figure out what Lucky had been up to. If it was a diary, it was the shortest diary on record. And if it was supposed to include a whole year, then either Faison repeated himself a lot, or there was a whole lot of missing time here.

The idea hit him hard. Missing time. Of course. He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until he heard Lucky's voice repeating the words. He looked up, startled, directly into Lucky's furious blue eyes.

Oh, damn. Judging by the look in his eyes, and the way he was staring at Nikolas, he remembered. Last night, at least.

"Are you okay?" he blurted instinctively. The question gave Lucky pause.

After enough thought that Nikolas was getting a bit worried, Lucky said slowly, "Yeah. I think so."

He heaved a sigh of relief at the lessening of the rage in Lucky's expression, then sighed again as those narrowed eyes glared at the notebook in his hand.

"It's my problem," his brother informed him. "I'll deal with it."

Lucky's chin was sticking out, his fists were clenched, and his posture screamed 'get outta my way!' Nikolas looked at all that determined ferocity and shook his head.

"It's our problem," he corrected him.

"Since when is what's in my head your problem?" Lucky challenged him.

Nikolas dropped the notebook on the wooden floor of the boxcar, jumped lightly off the edge and stalked over to his recalcitrant brother. Grabbing his head with both hands, he stared hard into his eyes. "Since the first time we did this," he announced, then kissed him

Hard.

 

Not finding Nikolas at Windemere, or along the docks, or at Kelly's, and not liking the dirty look Elizabeth had given him, Lucky gave up the hunt for the moment and headed out to his thinking place. Ever since he'd found it the abandoned boxcar had been his place to escape.

He had a hell of a lot to think about.

Turning the corner through the trees he was surprised to see the object of his all-morning search sitting in the door of the boxcar, feet dangling, head down. He looked like he was reading.

A few steps closer, and Lucky saw just _what_ Nikolas was reading. Rage swept through him. How dare he? How dare he butt in like this? Ignoring the ache in his nether regions that reminded him just how close the two of them were, and what sort of liberty Nikolas was apparently used to taking, he stalked up to his brother.

Nikolas looked up from Lucky's notebook and his eyes went wide. Good, Lucky growled to himself. Let him be nervous. He should be worried about himself. Before he could figure out what to say, Nikolas beat him to the punch.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He sounded anxious. The question stopped him in his tracks.

Was _he_ okay? After what had happened between them last night -- or early that morning, really -- concern for Lucky wouldn't be the first thing he'd think Nikolas would come up with. He swallowed. Of course, this _was_ Nikolas. And he knew his brother did care what happened to him. Most of the anger drained away.

"Yeah. I think so."

Nikolas looked relieved to hear him say it, and Lucky had to look away. His glance fell on the notebook still loosely held in his brother's grip, and his resolve strengthened. Like he'd told Emily, the only person he could rely on was himself. He'd gotten himself through hell in the past year, and if there were loose boards in his mental attic, then he was the only one who could nail 'em back down again. It wasn't anybody else's business.

Not even Nikolas'.

"It's my problem," he told him roughly. "I'll deal with it." Back off, he said silently. Nikolas just shook his head.

"It's our problem," he argued.

Lucky didn't know where he got off. Well, he had an idea where they both did, but it was too confusing to deal with that on top of everything else, so he let it slide. "Since when is what's in my head your problem?" he fought back.

Nikolas didn't answer for a moment. He tossed the notebook back into the boxcar, jumped down and stomped up to Lucky. He looked more than a little pissed off. Before Lucky could move, or duck, or hit him first, Nikolas took hold of his head in both his hands. Lucky stood there, stunned, as his half-brother glared at him then barked "Since the first time we did this" and kissed him.

A bolt of arousal shot straight to his crotch, only saved from embarrassing him by the shock of disbelief that rocketed through his brain.

"We've done this before?" he asked when he got his mouth back. It had been a world-shaking kiss. Too bad his world was already so shaky it hadn't been enough to stop the panic spreading through him. He didn't pull away, though. Nikolas' grip on him was the only solid thing in the universe right then.

Naturally that meant Nikolas had to let him go. Lucky instinctively reached out and grabbed hold of his shoulders, not wanting him to get too far away.

"You don't remember?" The usually calm voice was climbing up into soprano range. Nikolas looked appalled.

Lucky shrugged, feeling lost again, and not a little apologetic, although he wasn't sure why. Not knowing what to say, he simply pulled Nikolas to him and hugged him. After a moment, strong arms went around his own back, and they stood there and held on to one another until they both calmed down.

A little, anyway.

Not wanting to lose the comfort he found in being held, Lucky didn't move as he admitted, softly, almost whispering, "I think Faison messed with my head." Maybe other things, too, he thought, but he didn't want to say it.

"I think it's more than that," Nikolas answered, just as softly, and Lucky stiffened in horror. The arms didn't loosen, and he closed his eyes, waiting to hear what conclusions Nikolas had drawn, waiting for the axe to fall. "I think Helena's mixed up in all this."

That wasn't at all what Lucky had been expecting him to say. He relaxed again, almost falling when his knees started to give out on him. Nikolas reacted by drawing him over to the edge of the boxcar and sitting down, then waiting for Lucky to sit beside him. Lucky barely restrained himself from crawling onto Nikolas' lap.

"Why do you think so?" he managed to say, throat feeling like sandpaper. "She rescued me from Faison. Or at least, I think she did." Nikolas gave him a sharp look. "She _said_ she did, and it made sense, but I don't remember it. It's one of those black holes in my memory. I seem to have a lot of them."

"We've got to work together to find out what's going on," Nikolas told him, determination in every word. "You can't do this on your own. You're _not_ on your own, and it's about time you realized that."

Lucky looked sideways at him, then with typical Spencer abandon, decided since he was already insane, he might as well go for it all. Reaching over to clasp Nikolas' hand, he looked over at him intently.

"Does that mean I lose this?"

Nikolas stared down at their hands, then up into his eyes, then at his mouth. He stared at Lucky's mouth for so long he could feel his lips start to tingle. He licked them, and the stare got hotter.

"Only if you want to," Nikolas finally answered him. He sounded as winded as Lucky felt.

"Lose it or do it?" he asked, determined to have everything as clear as possible. God knew most of his life was a mess. This -- this he needed spelled out.

"Either." Nikolas shrugged, using their clasped hands to pull Lucky up next to him. Then he kissed him.

Well, something was right in the world. Even if it was only by their own deranged definition of right. He'd take it.

Every chance he got.

 

_Variations on a Corpse 5 (Hospital)_

It hadn't been as hard to tell Nikolas as he'd expected, even if Lucky hadn't expected to confirm their suspicions about Faison in the middle of General Hospital. But Elizabeth went to call her grandmother, and Nikolas was looking at him, smiling with his eyes more than his mouth, and Lucky knew he had two choices. He could tell Nikolas what he'd confirmed, with Elizabeth's help, at the docks, and distract them both with words. Or he could shock every person on the floor by grabbing Nikolas, ripping off his clothes and fucking him unconscious.

He stuck with talk. It was safer. Besides, he hadn't had a chance to explain Nikolas to Elizabeth. Wasn't sure he ever would. Or could.

"You okay?" Nikolas moved closer, until Lucky was baking in the heat he gave off. It felt so good. He took a deep breath.

"Yeah. You were right. It was Faison. He messed with my head. Some kind of hypnosis."

Warm fingers brushed his shoulder, and he felt the touch through his jacket all the way down to his bones.

Then Elizabeth was back, with news that Audrey was injured, and he didn't have time for another touch, no matter how much he needed one. Just another look, and the promise that Nikolas would watch over him while Elizabeth was gone. Take care of him.

He was looking forward to it.

Not that they had much time to themselves in the next couple days. His dad's trial took care of that. He wanted to reach out and hug Nikolas, right there in the corridor outside the courtroom. There was so much pain in his eyes, in his voice, as he talked about not getting the chance to say the important things to Stefan. Not getting the chance that Lucky had. How much he'd've liked that chance. So Lucky went to see his dad.

For Nikolas.

The acquittal was a relief, but not nearly as important as the need to stand beside Nikolas. To keep Nikolas standing beside him.

 

Helena was trembling with rage by the time she left her impudent pup of a grandson. How dare he address her in such a way? He was the heir, and she loved him dearly, but she would not allow such disrespect. He would come to his senses, and when he did, he would apologize. But his future repentance was not her first priority.

Finding out just what he knew of her plans for Lucky Spencer was.

It was child's play to use her access to determine that young Lucky had kept an appointment to see Doctor Kevin Collins at the precise moment when Nikolas was throwing his temper tantrum at her. That was not a reassuring sign. The fact that Nikolas, and no doubt Lucky as well, knew of the programming, meant that it was only a matter of time before the entirety of her plan was revealed. Doctor Collins might have some black marks on his reputation, but he was a skilled and highly effective psychologist. If too much became known, if he probed too deeply into Lucky's memories, then Natasha might end up being correct in her prediction that she, Helena, would be charged in her son's murder.

It was simply not to be borne.

She slipped into Doctor Jones' office and made three telephone calls. Within an hour, two vans bearing the logo of the Port Charles Electricity Company on the side were dispatched to two disparate neighborhoods. Two devices were installed, two signals were activated, and her secondary plan for maintaining her power base was in place.

She had come too far, and sacrificed too much, to allow two children to stymie her.

 

He felt healthier, more in control, than he had since Emily had first discovered there was something wrong with his head. Lucky tossed his jacket over the back of the chair and wandered over to the window, staring out at nothing, thoughts full of the events of the last few days.

Emily was safe. Elizabeth was safe. Jason was gone, or soon would be, he hoped. His dad was free. Nikolas was protecting him from Helena, and Dr. Collins was going to help him get his memories back. Life was getting good again. If only his mom would return his calls.

As if reading his mind, the telephone rang. He snatched it up, more worried than he cared to admit about the unusual silence from his mom ever since she'd discovered his dad'd had an affair with Felicia Scorpio. No damned wonder the police commissioner hated Luke. Mac had his reasons.

"Mom?" he asked eagerly.

"Protect your Queen, Lucky," answered the ice-cold voice of Helena Cassadine. He froze.

Part of his mind fought like a cornered animal, trying to escape her spell. It was too little. Too late.

She gave him his instructions. He told her yes. Then he hung up the telephone, picked up his jacket, and walked back out the door.

 

Kevin wondered if the day was ever going to end. His wife was off tending to one of her friends' current nervous breakdown, and wouldn't be back for the next two nights. For an instant he actually missed Lucy's constant chatter, much less Eve's entertaining bubbling. At this point, he even missed Sigmund the Duck. The house was so very quiet when he was alone in it.

Thoughts of old lovers surfaced again when he picked up the newspaper. Felicia had managed to save Luke Spencer's life, and he was grateful for that, but the cost had to have been dear. His hand was actually reaching for the 'phone to call Mac when he had second thoughts. After the last time, Mac had made it clear. It was over. He was with Felicia now. Kevin wondered if that was still the case. He hoped, for his friend's sake, for the sake of both his friends, it was still true.

A solitary dinner, two hours of leafing half-heartedly through professional journals, and twenty minutes of local news later, he switched to CNN long enough to hear the headlines and went to bed. The battles at the hospital and on the home front had taken their toll, and soon he was deeply asleep.

An indeterminate amount of time later he woke to cold steel holding his wrists above his head, the night air on his naked body, and a warm mouth sucking him to hardness. Hands roved over his chest and torso, leaving fire in their wake. Caught between sleep and awareness, he was thrown into the past, precipitated by the events of the present.

"Mac?" he whispered, the name catching and distorting in his throat as a knowing mouth swallowed him down to the base, and equally knowing hands reached below him to play between his buttocks. In the dim light, with his contacts out, he couldn't make out more than a blurry outline, but the broad shoulders, strong hands, and determined mouth couldn't have belonged to anyone else.

He didn't have many other male lovers. None that would be desperate for comfort, and certainly none that owned hand cuffs and weren't afraid to use them. It was typical Mac Scorpio behavior, really. It didn't surprise Kevin that Mac, distraught from the perceived betrayal by Felicia and needing to affirm control over at least one lover, would show up.

With hand cuffs.

Abandoning his attempts to form understandable words, he gave himself up to the experienced love-play that was rapidly turning his mind to mush. His legs were lifted and separated, and that ravenous mouth was everywhere, along his perineum, playing with his testicles, leaving sucking bruises on the tender skin of his inner thighs. He was moaning, then shouting, then whimpering as he came and was tenderly cleaned.

Exhausted, both by the unexpected visit and the mind-melting sex, he drifted back into sleep, barely aware as capable hands unlocked the cuffs, gently tucking his wrists down on top the sheet. Fingers brushed the hair back from his face, and he lifted his mouth to meet the one that covered it, tongues sharing tastes. The kiss felt ... strange, somehow, but he was too tired to think about it, and didn't bother opening his eyes.

They'd talk about it in the morning. Unless Mac didn't want to talk, in which case they'd pretend it hadn't happened. Just like last time.

Vaguely saddened by the thought, he slipped into sleep, and dreamt of empty arms and icy waters for the rest of the night.

 

It was after midnight before Nikolas dropped Gia off at home and headed toward the docks. The night was cold, foreshadowing a difficult winter. Suddenly the thought of Windemere, isolated on the island, no one on the premises but himself, the servants, and his grandmother, was repugnant to him. He was used to these strange moments of feeling as if he owned the world and had nowhere in the world to go at the same time.

They never got any easier.

He'd never been able to go to his grandmother. He used to be able to go to his Uncle Stefan. Who was now dead. No doubt by his grandmother's command, if not literally by her hand. He couldn't go to his mother; while he'd been relieved for Lucky's sake that Luke had been acquitted, the acquittal had been bought at a high price for Laura, and Nikolas didn't feel his loneliness was sufficient excuse to impose on her grief. Alexis was off on an island somewhere with Ned, not that she was particularly sympathetic even when she attempted to be. She was too pragmatic to be a good confidant.

Which left Lucky.

He'd turned the engine off and was halfway up the back stairs of Lucky's building before he even realized he'd made the decision to seek out his half brother. They had a strange relationship, but it held more love than any other connection he'd ever had with anyone. A small voice in the back of his mind wondered if Helena and Faison's manipulation of Lucky's mind had led to he and Lucky becoming intimate, but he dismissed it. Helena thought he wanted Elizabeth.

She had no idea who he really wanted.

Pausing outside the door to Lucky's room, he raised his hand to knock. Then he lowered it again, pulled out his key and let himself in. Lucky lay in bed, the moonlight coming through the opened curtains at the single window painting him in shadows of silver and blue.

Nikolas locked the door behind himself and began to shed clothing. By the time he walked across the room to the bed he was nude, as bare as Lucky under the sheet. He settled on the edge of the bed and ghosted his hand over Lucky's hair, down his cheek, along his throat and collar bone and breast bone. He could see in the low light that Lucky's mouth was slightly swollen, and he pictured his brother kissing Elizabeth good-bye at the airport. The mental image fueled his arousal.

Lucky loved Elizabeth. But he also loved Nikolas. And what the Cassadine prince had claimed, he would not relinquish. She would take what she was given. He would be given all he could take.

Running his hands up Lucky's arms until they encircled his wrists, he leaned over and kissed his brother deeply. Lucky came awake under him, jolting and trying to buck him off at first. He rode the rebellion easily. As he became more aware, Lucky realized who was kissing him, and fight became invitation in the space of a breath.

Nikolas controlled the pace of their lovemaking, scattering kisses and nibbles all over Lucky's chest, biting at his nipples until they were red and pointed and Lucky was thrusting up against him. He followed the faint trail of golden brown hair from navel to pubic bush, nuzzling and licking along the way. By the time he gave into Lucky's broken pleas and took the straining erection in his mouth, it took very little effort to bring Lucky to climax. He felt the balls in his palm draw up and, with a final suck at the leaking head, pulled back and replaced his mouth with his hand.

Lucky was beautiful in orgasm. His eyes were clenched tightly shut, sweat sliding in gleaming stripes along his temples, darkening his hair. His hands clenched in the sheets until his knuckles turned white, and every muscle in his chest and arms was clearly defined. The tendons in his throat stood out under the flushed skin, and his lips were drawn back from his teeth in a nearly soundless snarl.

It was inspiring. With more need than care, Nikolas slid his semen-coated fingers into Lucky, loosening muscles still spasming from the fading results of his climax. He shifted against the wide-flung thighs and used his fingers to spread Lucky open, sliding into him in one unstoppable movement. Even relaxed, it was tight, and Lucky moaned as he adjusted to Nikolas' bulk.

"Sorry," Nikolas ground out, then added belatedly, "Okay?"

"Fuck, yes!" Lucky yelped. Nikolas grinned in spite of himself, and pumped experimentally.

"Don't you mean, yes, fuck?" he asked mischievously, then thrust harder as Lucky tried to answer, rendering the answer incomprehensible. "I'll take that as a yes."

He took his time, too, once he was seated, slowing his rhythm until Lucky began to rouse again. Bunching the covers up beneath Lucky's ass, Nikolas lifted his brother's knees up to his own shoulders and pushed in as deeply as he could. Lucky was moaning continuously, fractured exhortations to do it, now, yes, harder, please, God, Nikolas, love you.

The last words inspired him to take his time. Made him lower his head to drop kisses along the inside of Lucky's knees. Made him bend over, buried as far as he could go, and kiss Lucky's mouth for long moments. Wet, exploratory, wide-mouthed kisses that reached from teeth and tongue all the way down to his heart.

When all the love and need in the world couldn't stop the course of nature any longer, Nikolas arched up and put his back into it, fucking Lucky as strongly as he could. Lucky reached up behind his head and grabbed the headboard, meeting each thrust as forcefully as it was given. Nikolas dropped one hand to Lucky's erection and the other to his chest, feeling his heart beat, feeling him spasm under his hand and around his own cock.

He froze for an instant, caught in a sensory feedback loop, Lucky's slick heat in his hand, heart thudding under his other hand, moans in his ears, impossible tightness rippling around his cock. Then he tensed as well, hips whipping back and in, three times, four, as he came hard.

Nikolas barely had the strength to roll to the side as his arms gave out. Lucky shifted with him, easing the way as gravity pulled Nikolas from his body. Then Nikolas gathered his brother up in his arms and kissed him, over and over again. When their breathing calmed to normal and sleep approached, he settled Lucky's head against his chest and ran his fingers through the sweaty, mussed blond hair.

"How could Helena think that hurting you would ever make me happy? How could she think that giving me Elizabeth would make me happy when it's you I want?"

Lucky didn't answer him in words, just turned his head and pressed a kiss to the hollow at the center of his collarbone. He dropped an answering kiss against the crown of Lucky's head, and closed his eyes to get some sleep, knowing the questions were unanswerable, content to know that it didn't really matter.

Shortly before dawn, he awoke. Lucky was curled up against his side, head butted into his rib cage, one hand draped loosely over his stomach. Nikolas grinned down at him affectionately, then glanced at his watch. Nearly seven. He was supposed to be at L &amp; B by eight, had to take a meeting for Ned, who was off proposing to Alexis. Not wanting to wake Lucky, he dropped the lightest of kisses on his mouth and carefully extracted himself from the wreckage of the bed.

Slipping on the previous night's clothes, thankful not for the first time that L &amp; B had shower facilities, he ran his hand over his hair and shrugged. Spikes would have to work. He glanced over at Lucky, still dead to the world, and smiled.

A few things in life he could depend on. His brother, and his brother's love, would always be top of the list.

Shutting the door silently behind him, he went off to face whatever the day would bring. He felt fantastic. Up for anything. Ready to slay dragons. Ready to conquer the world.

 

Helena dismissed the courier and waited until Andreas had left the cabin before opening the package. She inserted the first videotape into the player and settled back to watch. Very shortly, her patience and her planning were rewarded. She smiled at the sight of Lucky Spencer and the respected Doctor Collins in the midst of sexual bondage games.

"We'll see how much use you'll be to young Master Spencer now, Doctor Collins. How very unethical of you, indulging in a sexual relationship with a patient. Not unexpected, after what apparently happened with Livvie, regardless of the outcome of the hearing. It would seem that a pattern emerges, and it's not a very professional one for such an eminent psychologist!"

She was still chuckling quietly to herself when she ejected the first tape and inserted the second. She wasn't expecting much from the surveillance of the Spencer boy's room, but she had to be certain he was still responding to her programming and wouldn't remember that he had been ordered to seduce his doctor.

The spectacle of her grandson having intercourse with his half brother startled her into absolute immobility. Her eyes widened as she watched the exhibition of stamina and sexual enthusiasm on the screen. One hand crept to her throat, where a flush was spreading. Her mouth stretched into a vicious half-smile.

"My," she whispered to the images writhing on the screen. "How ... handsome you both look."

She watched through to the end, breathing deeply to calm herself, listening intently to Nikolas' words as he lay entwined with his half brother on the crumpled sheets. One hand reached out toward the screen, and she gently touched the image of her beloved grandson's face.

"You will submit to my wishes, Nikolas. Or you will be destroyed, and your brother along with you. I love you, but I will not allow you to threaten me. Now, you have given me the leverage to ensure that you never will again."

 

_Mind Games 1 (garrote), following Variations on a Corpse_

Lucky knew as soon as he saw Elizabeth come tearing up to him that something was dreadfully wrong. With the memory of standing up to Helena and not bowing to her programming fresh in his mind, the only thing he could think was that somehow, Helena had attacked Elizabeth. He caught her hand.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"It's Nikolas!"

His heart froze in his chest. Her words washed over him, painting a vivid picture of Luke rendering his brother unconscious and kidnapping him. Somehow, his father had found out about Helena's part in Faison's kidnapping and brainwashing him. Now Luke was going to take it out on the one person in the world Helena cared about.

The one person in the world Lucky loved more than anyone else alive.

No way in hell.

"He's taken him to Helena's," he growled, grabbing Elizabeth's arm and hauling her after him at a dead run. "Come on! We have to hurry!"

As fast as they went, they were still too close to too late. Bursting into the room, tearing around Helena's still form, Lucky'd seen his father tighten the garrote around Nikolas' neck with a decisive twist.

"NO!" he screamed, breath short, hands out as if he could stop Luke from across the room. Hard blue eyes met his, and finally, too damned slowly, his father took the cord away from his brother's throat.

"You coming with me or you staying with them?" Luke asked as he turned to go. Lucky gave the question all the consideration it deserved. None.

"I'm not leaving without my brother." He glared at his father. Luke shrugged.

"Figured you'd say that."

He left, and Lucky didn't waste time watching him go. He was too busy touching Nikolas' face, staring at the unnatural paleness under the warm brown skin. This was too much. Going too far. Getting too close.

Nikolas finally did come around, and the first thing he did was turn on Helena. Good. He was always better with words than Lucky was. The only thing Lucky could add to his brother's stinging condemnation of their elders' continued warfare was to tell Helena, flat out, "You're alone. So's my father. That's all you'll ever be. That's all you'll ever have. Next time, why don't you just try to kill each other, and leave us out of it!"

"Get me out of here," Nikolas demanded, but his eyes were begging.

"Can you make it?" Lucky asked even as he was rounding the end of the couch and taking his brother's arm, helping him to stand.

"With your help," Nikolas told him.

Lucky swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat and hovered behind Nikolas all the way back to the docks. Covering his brother's back. Staying as close to his heat as he could get.

Then they were back on what passed for dry land, and he could see his father lurking in the shadows, waiting for him. The hardest thing he'd ever done was get rid of Nikolas for a little while, but Elizabeth had seen Luke too, and she made it easier. Lucky didn't turn to watch as Nikolas left. He didn't need to; he could feel the warmth leaving him, turning him to ice as his father came down to face him.

He didn't remember, afterward, what he'd said. He'd known it hadn't made any difference. Vengeance was the only thing Luke cared about. Love didn't come into it. Never had. Never would. Luke didn't give a shit who he hurt, as long as that stupid scorecard he kept in his head said he'd won at the end of the day. As far as Lucky was concerned, it _was_ the end.

Not waiting for his father's footsteps to fade away, he headed for Kelly's. Very shortly after that, he showed up on the steps of Nikolas' cottage. To his intense surprise, Gia answered the door. She looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her, and just as displeased.

"Hi, what do you want?" she snapped.

"None of your damned business," he snapped back. "Where's Nikolas?"

"Upstairs. But he's already gone to bed. Looked like he'd been put through a wringer, and the place was a mess -- "

He'd brushed past her and was up the stairs before she finished babbling. He knew why the place had been trashed, and by whom, and what toll it had taken on Nikolas. That was why he was there. It was still none of Gia's business. As to why she'd taken up residence in Nikolas' place ... he'd get that out of his brother later.

Much later. There were more important things to see to right now. Like what state Nikolas was in and what, if anything, Lucky could do to help.

He stopped on the threshold of his brother's room and stared at the figure huddled in a ball in the middle of the bed. The pillows were bunched beneath him and all the covers were pulled up tight around him. He was sound asleep, but even in sleep, there were frown lines around his mouth and eyes. He looked like a stressed, scared, and very much alone little kid.

It made Lucky's heart break.

In the hall outside, he heard Gia's footsteps. He turned to look at her just as she opened her mouth. Putting his fingers to her lips, he shook his head, then pulled away and closed the door in her face. She looked confused, calculating, like she was balancing a profit sheet in her head. Standard Gia. Not giving a particular damn about her at the moment, being much more concerned with his brother, Lucky dropped his jacket on the floor, turned the lock in the door handle, and angled a chair under it, for added insurance.

After all, she'd blackmailed once. There was nothing to say she wouldn't do it again, unless he made damned sure she didn't get the ammunition.

Walking quietly over to stand at the bedside, he reached a hand out toward Nikolas. As the shadow of his movement passed over his brother's face, Nikolas flinched, still asleep, obviously still jumpy. Lucky couldn't blame him. It wasn't every day a guy got kidnapped out of his own home, dragged to his dragon grandmother's lair, nearly throttled by his half-brother's deranged father, then barely escaped just to return home to, of all people, Gia.

Tip-toeing to the other side of the bed, Lucky stripped off his clothes and carefully, slowly slipped under the covers beside Nikolas. Even in his sleep, wired as he was, his brother knew him. He put his arms around the balled-up shape, and Nikolas turned to him, burrowing into his arms like he had just come home. Lucky felt his throat tighten again, and buried his face against Nikolas' hair, smothering the tears before they could fall.

One more thing to blame Luke for; one more crime to lay at Helena's door. They'd hurt Nikolas. That was unforgivable.

He didn't sleep at all that night, simply lay there and kept watch. For so long others had kept watch over him, for him. It was Lucky's turn now, one he took gladly. It wasn't much, but it was something. And if Nikolas slept better because Lucky was holding him, watching over him, then it was something important.

For both of them.

It was very early in the morning when Nikolas finally stirred. He came awake all at once, eyes darting around the room, body tensed for a fight.

"It's okay," Lucky whispered, patting him gently. "It's me."

Bright dark eyes stared up at him through the shadows. "Lucky?" Nikolas whispered just as quietly.

"Yeah. You okay?" His fingers were moving even as he asked, pushing the fall of dark hair off Nikolas' forehead, touching the bruises at the side of his mouth lightly, trailing down his jaw line to trace, butterfly-light, the ligature bruise across his throat. Damn Luke, anyway.

White teeth glinted briefly up at him. "When you touch me like that, nothing hurts."

Lucky had to grin back at him, before reaching down and brushing a kiss across the darkest bruise below his cheekbone where Luke had manhandled him with the chloroform rag. "I'm sorry," he said somberly.

"Not your fault," Nikolas told him roughly. "You're not accountable for Luke's actions, just as I'm not accountable for Helena's. We can only be responsible for what we ourselves do, not the harm our families do to one another." Then he stretched up far enough to touch his mouth to Lucky's, and sighed. "Thank you for coming."

"Not yet," Lucky whuffed against his lips. Nikolas started to chuckle, and Lucky swallowed the sound in a deep kiss. When they got their tongues untangled again, he finished the thought. "But soon."

"Not too soon, I hope," Nikolas mouthed against his chest. Lucky shivered.

Nothing else ever felt this right. He put the thought of dreams, and New York, and Elizabeth to the back of his mind. It was as if he lived two lives. One was in a dream world of sunlight and paint, lipstick on Elizabeth's mouth tasting waxy on his tongue, hair smelling of flowers tucked under his chin. The other was a dream world of shadows and strength, warmth he never felt anywhere else, honey skin and strong hands and a connection he'd never have with anyone else.

The worlds never touched one another.

Sometimes he wondered if the weird split in his life was an offshoot of the brainwashing. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if the worlds ever did collide. Most of the time he didn't think about it at all. He just went with his instincts.

At the moment, his instincts were screaming at him to move. So he did.

Reassurance joined with possession as he ran his hands and his mouth over Nikolas' body, starting at his mouth and roaming to his knees. He spent a long time kissing and stroking every bruise Luke had left on Nikolas, from the rope marks on his wrists to the fingerprints on his arms, the cord bruises on his throat and the long dark bruises the stairs had made on his thighs and ass as Luke had dragged him up the steps.

The only sounds in the room were sighs, and kisses, and the occasional shushing as Lucky remembered Gia, probably sitting right outside the door trying to listen through it. The silence made the touches even more intense, if that was possible. By the time Nikolas came in his mouth, they were both covered with sweat and shuddering with strain.

He would have come himself, from the feel and the taste of Nikolas, but his brother urged him up and moved against him. The invitation was clear, and he was in no state to resist even if he'd had the will to say no. Sliding up behind Nikolas, heads sharing the same pillow, his face buried in the curve of Nikolas' neck, he slowly entered Nikolas, smothering his gasp in Nikolas' skin, covering his brother's gasp with the palm of his hand.

As close to the edge as he was, even with the best intentions in the world, he couldn't last long, and Nikolas didn't make it easy for him to last at all. Shoving back onto him as fiercely as Lucky pushed forward, it took very little time for him to come. The world spun, and he clutched Nikolas hard against him, his anchor in a universe that wouldn't stop turning on him.

They held one another for a long time afterward. Nothing much was said; it didn't need to be. It was the two of them against the world, against their families, against anything and anyone who would harm either of them.

Always.

_Mind Games 2 (videotape)_

It was the work of a moment for Helena to plant the seed that would help destroy Kevin Collins, and with him, any hope Lucky might have to uproot his programming. Dr. Collins was busy dealing with an unfaithful wife, an ex-wife who was too close for comfort, a lover he only thought had recently sought comfort, and a mentally unbalanced daughter.

Mental imbalance must run in the family.

She swept into his office and closed the door behind her in a graceful movement. He looked up at her, startlement in his expressive sherry eyes. She paused, partly for effect and partly to admire the man in his clothes. He'd been impressive nude; with his professional mien in place, he was still quite lovely. She sighed happily. Beautiful men suffered beautifully. It was a maxim she'd seen proven over and over in her adventurous life.

He was politeness personified, but his eyes were wary. "Mrs. Cassadine, how may I help you?"

"On the contrary, my dear doctor," she cooed sweetly. "I am here to help you."

His wariness increased tenfold. She smiled in genuine enjoyment. Laying the innocuous videotape box precisely in the center of the desk blotter in front of him, she continued with precisely gauged mock-concern, "It would be in your own best interests to ensure that you are not, once again, involved in a professional case that has a clear conflict of interest. The Board would not be so forgiving a second time."

"What are you talking about?" Still in control, still calm, but she saw a betraying quiver in his hand as he reached for the box.

"I'll leave you to watch in private, Dr. Collins. Do think seriously on what I've said." With that she turned and swept back from the office as grandly as she'd entered it. Pausing in the hall outside the door, she was gratified to hear movement. Slow, but discernible.

As the mouse reached out for the cheese ... the trap snapped shut.

 

Kevin stared at the images cavorting across the screen in sick disbelief.

It had been Mac. It _had_ to have been.

But the body moving over his was twenty years younger, thinner and fairer than Mac Scorpio, by far. It was unmistakably Lucky Spencer handcuffing him to his bed, making love to him, leaving him shaking and spent. Kissing him, uncuffing him, pulling the covers over him, and leaving him asleep.

Guilty as sin.

Completely innocent.

Well, he knew he was the latter, but the tape was an incredibly strong case for the former. And he knew Helena Cassadine. This was a copy, not the original.

He managed to get up, turn off the machine, walk across the hall and make it into a stall before he vomited. That was a major victory. On his knees on the cold tile of a men's room floor with his head hanging in the toilet, Kevin knew without a doubt that his life couldn't get worse. Even when his psychotic murderous twin Ryan was playing with his head, it hadn't been this bad. Eve was catting around on him with Ian, Lucy was close to getting back in his life and screwing it up all over again, Grace was tormenting his dreams, Livvie was complicating his days, Mac ... Mac _hadn't_ come to his bed.

A boy under his care for severe mental complications following mind games of the worst possible kind had come to his bed. A boy he had no chance in hell of helping now.

Dragging himself up to the sink, staring at the haggard face staring back at him from the mirror, he seriously considered putting his head through the glass before catching himself. It had to have been Helena. The programming. He would talk to Gail about it. To Alan. Without breaching patient confidentiality, he'd explain as much as he could of what happened. That he was asleep, and helpless, and cuffed, and it hadn't been his fault. Hadn't been Lucky's fault.

It was all Helena's fault. And he wasn't about to let her win. Fatigue hardened to determination in his expression, then melted slightly as he considered the other implication of the tape.

Before he talked to anyone at the hospital, he had to talk to Mac.

He moved like an automaton, going through the motions, nodding and greeting people in the halls, in the elevator, driving through the streets of Port Charles on automatic, simply grateful to arrive at police headquarters without running over anyone. Knocking firmly on the commissioner's door, he stared down at the videotape in his other hand.

This was going to be ... difficult. Besides the whole ethical question, there was the undoubted fact that Helena had tried, _was_ trying, to blackmail him. Mac wasn't going to take kindly to that, but Kevin would have to do everything in his power to ensure that Mac didn't go after Helena. For Mac's sake. For Kevin's sake.

For Lucky's sake.

"C'mon in." Mac sounded distracted. Kevin popped his head around the edge of the door.

"Is this a good time?"

It was gratifying, after as awful as the past few weeks had been, to see the way Mac's face lit up at seeing him.

"Kev! Bring yourself in. It's always a good time for you."

He found himself smiling, relaxing for the first time since Helena had burst into his office, as Mac came around the side of the desk, hand out, beaming at him. He took the hand to shake, then found himself wrapped up in a typically exuberant Australian hug.

It was a fight to stop himself from clinging. Mac felt that something was wrong before Kevin could say a word. The hug tightened, then loosened, and he found himself drawn over to a comfortable couch, settled in the corner with Mac sitting beside him.

"What's wrong, mate?" Mac asked quietly.

"Everything," Kevin found himself responding honestly. He shook his head at Mac's concerned look. "Priorities, though. Some things are much worse than others, for the innocent bystanders, at least."

Now Mac looked confused as well as concerned. Kevin smiled against his will. Mac had always been ridiculously cute. This close, and as shaky as Kevin felt at the moment, it was almost impossible not to kiss him. The thought sobered him, and he took a deep breath.

"What I'm about to say impinges on doctor-patient confidentiality, and involves the threat of a crime that I have no intention of pursuing charges for because it would harm my patient. I need you to know that right up front, Mac."

Blue eyes narrowed at him, and a measuring look displaced the previous concern. "If a crime's been committed, Kevin, I can't promise not to go after the criminal," Mac warned.

"If you don't, I can't come to you for help," Kevin told him quietly. Mac looked frustrated, and about to explode in a temper, as expected. Kevin reached out and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please. Just listen."

Mac took a deep breath and nodded. Reassured, for the moment at least, Kevin launched into a carefully edited account of Lucky's experience as Helena and Faison's captive. Mac's expression darkened as Kevin described the extent of the mind control.

"That's not the worst of it. Her control over his actions hasn't yet been broken." Kevin took a deep breath then rose and inserted the tape into Mac's VCR, detouring on his way back to the couch to lock the door to the office. Mac raised a brow in question. Kevin shrugged uncomfortably. "You'll see why in a moment."

He pressed play, then waited, watching Mac's face instead of the screen. His old lover's expression was an open book, and it was depressing reading. Disbelief, a touch of arousal, shock, disapproval, puzzlement, understanding, and anger followed one another in swift progression. As the moans and sighs faded away to the deep slow sound of a sleeper's breathing, Kevin stopped and ejected the tape.

"She made him do this." Mac sounded completely convinced. That was heartening.

"I thought he was you." It was one of the most difficult things Kevin had ever had to say in a lifetime of saying difficult things. Mac's eyes met his, understanding and heartache in them.

"Because of Felicia," he said softly. Kevin nodded. "Wish it had been, mate. Then this never would've happened."

Kevin swallowed around the lump in his throat. "But it did, and now we need to deal with it."

Mac's hand settled over his, and he turned his own so they met palm to palm, fingers entwining. "I take it you don't want me to go after the old bitch for blackmail?" There was a note of hope in Mac's voice. Kevin shook his head.

"If you did, she just might trigger Lucky to do something even more destructive, targeted against someone less able to take care of themselves than I am."

"Then what d'you want me to do?" It was a singularly frustrated cry. Kevin could sympathize.

"I want you to know what's happening, and keep an eye on Helena. I'm determined to continue to help Lucky, but I may need to go through Gail to do it. I also wanted you to know," he took another deep breath, "from _me_, what happened, and that it wasn't what it seemed."

Mac nodded. "Keep me informed. And Kev?" Fingers tightened around his reassuringly. "I trust you. She's not gonna get away with it."

Then, in broad daylight in the middle of the police headquarters, the commissioner leaned over and kissed him. There was faith in the contact, and strength, and determination to win, and a fierce desire he'd missed. When they broke apart again, he could still feel Mac's mouth moving on his, still feel the pressure of his shoulder against him, still feel the warmth radiating from him. He brushed a kiss over Mac's knuckles before he reluctantly let go of his hand.

Kevin left the office feeling much better than when he'd gone in. Stronger, like he could fight dragons, or beard lions in their dens. Funny, how a little faith and a simple kiss could make a man ten feet tall and loaded for bear. Laughing to himself at all the hunting analogies that were crowding his mind, he drove back to the hospital and looked up Gail Baldwin.

What she had to tell him wasn't reassuring.

"Luke was positive about this deeper conditioning? Did Helena give him any indication what would happen if it was triggered, or what form the trigger might take?"

Gail shook her head sadly. "No, only that it would cause him to lash out at those closest to him."

Kevin stared off into space a moment, mentally tracing the complexities of Helena's web of plots. It was stunning how labyrinthine the Cassadine matriarch's thought processes were. It would take concerted effort by many people to defeat her at her own game.

"I need to ask a favor of you, Gail." She looked askance at him. "I can't go into details without betraying a confidence, but ... will you be my beard?"

She smiled at him irrepressibly. "Does Eve know about this?"

He grinned back, as conspiratorially as possible. "I can't let Helena know I'm continuing to help Lucky, but I won't give up on him either. Will you schedule him to see you, when in fact he'll be seeing me?"

It was a long, intense stare-off before she reluctantly agreed. "I prefer to have things aboveboard, Kevin, as you well know. But we're dealing with a very tricky customer in Helena Cassadine, and if this is the only way we can help that boy, then I'm with you."

"Thank you, Gail. I'll do everything I can to prove your confidence isn't misplaced."

"I'm sure you will," she replied dryly. "Just do what you do so well, Kevin, and help Lucky Spencer get his life back."

_Mind Games 3 (target)_

Lucky felt more relaxed than he had in a long time as he stepped off the elevator and walked to the counter to check in for his weekly head examination with Kevin. Things were going well with Elizabeth; his mom was happy and excited about the future; Luke hadn't kidnapped or threatened anybody lately; Lulu was healthy and having fun in school; Emily had her family to worry about her, and who cared what was up with Zander; the shrink lessons had finally snapped the leash Helena had held him on; and Nikolas was doing well, opening up about missing Stefan and allowing Lucky to do some comforting for a change.

It was the last thought that had him smiling as he walked up to his Aunt Amy. Life was good. Weird, but that was normal. For the first time in too long, it was a good weird instead of a bad weird.

"Hi," he greeted Amy cheerfully. "Here to get my head shrunk!"

She grinned back at him, then looked confused. "It says here that your appointment is with Doctor Baldwin, Lucky. Did you stop seeing Kevin?"

"Not that I know of." He felt as confused as she looked. "Who changed the appointment?"

"Doctor Collins did," a lady's voice behind him said reassuringly. "I'm Gail Baldwin, Lucky. Can we talk?"

He swung around and instinctively took her outstretched hand. Her words were friendly, and her face was neutral, but her eyes were warning him. He glanced up at the little round mirror that allowed the nurses to see down the corridor without leaving the nurses' station, and saw Helena lurking. She was watching them like some sort of alligator with its eyes barely peering out of the water in a swamp. Hungry, and mean with it. He shook Gail's hand gently.

"Yeah. I'd like that." He didn't know what was going on, but he'd play along. If Kevin trusted this woman, he would too, and he sure as hell didn't trust Helena -- so if it made the Wicked Witch nervous, he'd definitely go for it.

Once in Doctor Baldwin's office, she waved him to a seat. "I haven't been told all the details, Lucky, but Kevin needs to talk with you without letting Mrs. Cassadine know. So we arranged this small deception in order to allow you to meet with him without interference." She motioned to someone standing behind him, and Lucky craned to look over his shoulder. Kevin was standing in the corner.

"Sorry about all the cloak and dagger business," Kevin said, with a helpless shrug. "But something's happened, and you need to know about it before we go any further."

Gail stood up and, smiling at both of them, excused herself. Using the connecting door between her office and the side hall, she slipped out where Helena couldn't see her, leaving the men alone together. Kevin walked around the desk slowly, perching on the corner and staring down at Lucky seriously.

"Do you remember the last time you talked with Helena Cassadine?"

Lucky stared back up at him. "Yeah, a couple days ago, out on the docks. She tried to trigger me to stay with her, listen to her, and I blew her off. It's working, doc."

"Not well enough, apparently." Kevin took a deep breath, and Lucky looked at him. The situation was making him jumpy. "I need to tell you a few things, Lucky, and they're going to be upsetting. You need to know that nothing that happened is your fault, and that I'm not going to abandon you. The subterfuge with Gail is a smoke screen we may need to keep up for awhile until we can figure out what Helena has done to you and neutralize the damage. But I'm not giving up on you, and I don't want you to give up on yourself."

Lucky gulped. Kevin's eyes were staring right through him, and he thought, in the midst of wondering what the hell was going on, that the guy would make a great hypnotist. "What happened?" he croaked.

"She got to you one last time before you were able to break her first level hold." Kevin reached for a VCR remote and switched on a television sitting beside his desk. "This will be disturbing, but remember -- it was _not_ your fault. I don't blame either one of us."

The tape started to run, and he froze, staring at the screen, unable to blink much less turn away. He saw himself creeping into a bedroom he didn't recognize. Going up to a sleeping Doctor Collins and handcuffing him to his bed. Giving him a pretty damned efficient blow job. Kissing him and taking the cuffs off and covering him up and sneaking back out.

He didn't know whether to be turned on or freaked out. After giving it a little thought, he decided he was both. "Shit," was all he could find to say.

"Deep," Kevin agreed. "If we let it stop us. But that's up to you. Do you feel confident, having seen this, in allowing me to continue to try to help you?"

Lucky looked up at him like he'd lost his mind. "Of course I do. I was the one chaining you to the bed and sucking you off." Kevin blushed uncontrollably; Lucky ignored it and continued. "If you can trust me, man, I can certainly trust you."

Kevin swallowed, then nodded. "Good. Second thing I need to tell you. There are indications that your programming goes quite deeply into your unconscious mind. Will you allow me to hypnotize you in an effort to determine how deeply it goes?"

Grinning slightly at his earlier thoughts, Lucky nodded. "Yeah. Let's do it." Looking into those eyes wouldn't be a chore. From what he'd just seen, he'd done a lot worse.

The last thing he remembered was counting slowly back from a hundred, and the intent look in Kevin's eyes. The next thing he knew, those eyes were back, staring into him, and he felt wiped out.

"Get anything interesting?" he asked, surprised to find his throat dry. He must've talked a lot.

"Yes," Kevin told him bluntly.

"Do I want to hear it?" Lucky wasn't sure he did.

"One part, at least." Kevin reached for the remote again, and Lucky flinched. "This is the session we just completed. You need to know this."

The tape wound back, and Lucky saw himself, eyes open, face relaxed, appearing to be completely aware of a conversation he didn't remember having. It was weirdness on top of weirdness. Kevin stopped the tape and played it forward, catching himself mid-question.

" -- will be the target if Helena is threatened?"

"The person I love most in the world," Lucky responded calmly. Kevin, on the tape, looked distraught, but recovered himself quickly.

"Who would that be?"

Lucky expected to hear himself say Lulu, since his little sister was the one he was most protective of in his family. Or his mother, perhaps, she'd be a good target for Helena -- wouldn't be the first time. Even Elizabeth. She'd been a target of a sort already, when he'd been trained like a seal to push her toward Nikolas every time he opened his mouth. So his actual answer shocked the hell out of him.

"Nikolas," he said, as if it was the most self-evident thing in the world.

Well. That explained a lot.

"What now, doc?" he asked when he got over the shock and could talk again.

"You need to talk to your brother," Kevin answered him. "And so do I."

 

Walking into Luke's office wasn't the easiest thing Nikolas had ever done, but it _was_ one of the most satisfying. He was a Cassadine; he never admitted fear. That didn't mean he didn't feel it, and Luke was nuts enough that Nikolas would have been crazy not to be a little nervous around him. Not to mention the last time the man had been around him he'd had a garrote pulled tight around Nikolas' throat. He didn't have to remember that for it to make him uptight.

He said what he had to say and left. Luke had tried to intimidate him, then tried to brush him off, then called him a martyr and tried to patronize him. Nikolas let it all roll off.

"If you and Helena want to come at one another with daggers drawn yelling 'vengeance is mine,' go for it. But leave Lucky and me out of it."

"Helena started this round -- " Luke tried to justify himself again. Nikolas was having none of it.

"Keep the blinders on, Luke. You can blame Helena. You can blame Stefan. Heck, you can even blame me. Anything to keep from having to look in the mirror and hold yourself accountable."

As an exit line, it had some heft to it. He tried to leave like an adult but couldn't quite resist slamming the door. Stewing about it all the way back to Kelly's, he pulled up short when he saw Lucky and Elizabeth kissing at a table on the patio. The thought struck him that anyone seeing him would think he was jealous of Lucky.

How wrong they'd be.

At that moment, his brother noticed him and drew back. Nikolas noticed that Lucky's lips were a little swollen, gleaming in the reflected light coming from Kelly's windows. He wanted to kiss him then and there. He crammed his hands deep in his pockets to keep from reaching out and holding on tight.

The dam he usually kept around his emotions had been weakened, first by his outburst to Helena, then by the confrontation with Luke. It wasn't long before he was admitting to Lucky and Elizabeth how very much he missed Stefan, and how alone he felt. Elizabeth reacted first, tender hearted as always, and Lucky was a beat behind, his hand going up around Nikolas' back, supporting him, warming him. Easing away some of that loneliness and replacing it with love.

Then their mother was there, and Lucky was kissing Elizabeth good-night, and he was having to assure Laura that he was, indeed, all right. There was no way on God's green Earth he could ever tell her that he was wishing he _was_ Elizabeth at that moment. She told him that she loved him, replacing a little more of the loneliness with a little more love, and he and Lucky escorted her home.

Once they'd seen Laura safely inside, he glanced over at his brother, who was staring steadily back at him.

"What?" he asked, feeling a little defensive. He hadn't been that transparent, surely?

"My place," Lucky told him, a suggestion of invitation behind the matter-of-fact words. "Gotta talk."

They didn't. Talk, that was. They glanced at one another, then looked away, and kept a careful three inches between them all the way to Lucky's room. Once inside, Lucky locked the door and shoved a chair beneath the handle.

"You expecting intruders?" Nikolas eyed the fortifications and looked questioningly at Lucky.

"In this town, you never know." Then Lucky was across the room, and Nikolas was backed against the wall, and their hands were all over one another, and talking was the last thing on his mind.

"Been thinking about this all night," Lucky muttered into his belly as he worked Nikolas' slacks off his legs and pulled his briefs down to join them. Then his mouth was around Nikolas' erection and the only thing Nikolas could think was 'it's about bloody time.'

The first time was fast and furious, jetting down Lucky's throat as Lucky jerked himself off, then sliding down the wall to land in a jumbled heap, wrapped around each other. His hands were in Lucky's hair and Lucky's hands were on his ass, and they were kissing like they'd never stop, never need to breathe, never need anything else but what they got from one another.

He didn't know how they ever made it to the bed. It wasn't important. The only important thing was that they did, and by the time they did they were naked, so nothing got in the way of the explorations that followed. Nikolas returned the favor his brother had given him against the wall, using hands and mouth and tongue to bring Lucky to aching hardness, then leaving him there while he teased him unmercifully. Lucky didn't complain. He was too busy whimpering. The second time Nikolas made him come, Lucky screamed out loud.

Nikolas stuffed the corner of the pillow in his mouth. Happily, none of the neighbors called the cops or came to see who was getting killed. He took that as encouragement and started all over again.

By the time he finally took pity on Lucky and eased his way in, Lucky was out of his mind, thrashing beneath him like a wild animal. It was a challenge to get him to lay still long enough to mount him, but worth every bit of the effort once they were joined. Having taken the edge off, Nikolas was able to hold out a little longer on this go-round, but the extended foreplay took its toll on him. Lucky came first, and although he had little left to give, his orgasm rocked them both, jolting Nikolas nearly off him as he arched against the arms and legs holding him to the bed. The convulsions around and under him pulled Nikolas into his own climax following immediately on Lucky's.

Lying wrapped together, lazily dabbling at the stickiness on his belly, drawing abstract designs on Lucky's skin as well, Nikolas wasn't thinking of much of anything when Lucky brought him back down to earth with a thump.

"She did it to me again."

Welcome to the nightmare world of Helena Cassadine, Nikolas groaned silently. No place is safe. Then he reached over to hold Lucky tight as his brother told him about the latest mind game the grandmother from hell had played with him.

_Mind Games 4 (endgame)_

Lying with his arms wrapped firmly around his brother, Lucky prepared himself to tell Nikolas the worst. It was always best to be ready for disaster when Helena was involved. And she was _always_ involved. At least he was relaxed. Three orgasms in the space of a little over an hour would either kill a man or leave him as relaxed as a boiled noodle.

"What did she do to you?" This time, Nikolas didn't say. He didn't have to. Lucky heard it loud and clear. Not frustration. More like protectiveness mixed with a real need to rip his grandmother's head off and hand it to her. As soon as he could move again.

Lucky could relate.

"She got to me. Don't know how, it's another one of those blank spots. But Kevin had a videotape she made of us together. She'd tried to blackmail him into not helping me anymore, but it didn't work. He's not giving up on me."

Nikolas' arms tightened around him. "Us? Together?" He sounded like he was about to pass out.

Lucky hurried to reassure him. "Not us, like you and me. Me and Doctor Collins."

"What?" It was a barely-muted roar. Lucky started talking, fast.

"She set us up. Triggered me to ambush him when he was asleep, hand cuff him to the bed, suck him off, you know, make it look like we had a thing going. Then she showed him the tape. But it's okay -- he doesn't blame me -- "

"He sure as hell shouldn't!"

This time the roar was not nearly as muted. Lucky rolled them both over until he was lying on top of his brother, pinning him down and forcing him to shut up and listen by sheer force of will. Not to mention flopping all his weight down so Nikolas wouldn't have the air to keep getting so loudly pissed off.

"He was asleep. Wasn't his fault either. Doesn't matter."

Nikolas opened his mouth to argue and Lucky stuck his tongue in it. Several long, sloppy moments later Lucky drew back. Nikolas looked dazed. Good. By the time he snapped out of it Lucky'd be able to tell him the rest of it.

"We're going through Gail Baldwin so Helena doesn't know he's still helping me. Kevin hypnotized me to see how deep the programming goes, and it looks like it goes pretty far down. It's gonna take some time to get it all out. But if nothing else, it told me one thing."

Nikolas looked up at him, his entire expression one big question mark. Lucky beamed down at him.

"Told me who it was I loved more than anybody in the whole world." He ducked his head and kissed Nikolas again, enjoying it thoroughly before coming back up for air.

"Lulu?" Nikolas asked, his voice a little smothered. Lucky levered himself up a bit, so his brother could breathe, and ground his pelvis against Nikolas, gasping as he started to harden again.

"No, stupid." He thrust experimentally, and grinned harder when Nikolas thrust back up against him automatically. "You."

Then he burrowed between Nikolas' thighs with his own, ran his hands down to cup Nikolas' ass, and did his damnedest to prove it. It took awhile to convince his body that it could do it, but where there was a will, he'd find a way. And it was a lot of fun getting ready. This time, he was the one to do the mounting, and this time, it was Nikolas' turn to get fucked through the mattress. Neither of them complained. It was nearly noon before they pried themselves out of bed and wandered down to get breakfast.

 

Nikolas apologized for the third time to Ned for being late in to work, determined not to tell him what had gotten in the way of business that morning, and wondered why his boss was in such a rotten mood. Shrugging it off as probably another Quartermaine blow-up, he got started on the contracts and by mid-afternoon had made quite a lot of headway on the backlog of L &amp; B paperwork. He was ready for a break by three when his cell phone rang.

"Nikolas, this is Kevin Collins."

"Doctor Collins, what can I do for you?" That my brother hasn't already done? He kept the uncharitable thought to himself and listened intently as the psychiatrist began to speak.

"Without going into too many details, I just wanted to warn you that you need to speak with your grandmother. As soon as possible. Some issues have been raised regarding the programming that was done on your brother that could put you in immediate danger."

"Details would be helpful," Nikolas prompted him. Kevin sighed, frustration evident even over the telephone connection.

"I can't give them to you," he admitted. "If Lucky is willing to do so, then I'd recommend you talk to him about it. But first, and most importantly, speak with Helena. Tell her that Lucky considers _you_ to be the person he cares most for among his family members. She'll know why that's important."

The door opened and a familiar gaunt female figure sailed through it. Nikolas sighed. "No problem. Talk to you later." With a snap, he disconnected the call and put the 'phone back in his pocket. "Helena," he said with forced politeness, "to what do I owe the dubious honor of your presence?"

"There's something I need to share with you, my darling. Perhaps when you've seen it you'll reconsider your recent rebellious attitude toward me."

With that, she motioned him into the office. He followed, watching curiously as she turned on the combination television/VCR and pushed a videotape into the slot.

Five minutes later he was ready to kill her with his bare hands. Rip her throat out with his teeth. Break every bone in her body. Smother her with her own malice.

He felt like he'd been raped. The tenderness and passion he and Lucky had shared were spread out on the screen like a voyeur's banquet, and he could feel her watching him watching it. It made him want to tear her guts out and strangle her with them.

Nothing showed on his face. He was, after all, a Cassadine.

Reaching over, he pushed the stop button, then glanced calmly over at her. She smiled at him, pure pleasure and twisted love shining out of her eyes.

"As you can see, my darling, your ... indiscretion with your brother has been recorded for posterity. Unless you'd like your little secret to find its way into certain hands, you would do well to do as I ask."

"Do you want me dead?" he asked, still completely calm on the surface.

She stared at him, nonplussed at his reaction. When she didn't speak, he continued, maintaining an even tone, staring at her dispassionately.

"Did you know that Lucky loves me more than anyone else in the world?" She paled, and he pressed on as she considered the implications of that statement. "If your last little mind game is played out, if the final level of programming in Lucky's brain is triggered, then he will kill _me_. Is that what you want?"

Popping the tape out of the machine, he handed it back to her, the picture of nonchalance. She stared down at the small black case as if it had suddenly turned into a poisonous snake.

"I don't care what you do. What you say. Who you hurt. Because in the end, I will have love, and you will have nothing but my death and the ruins of your empire scattered at your feet. The Cassadine line will die with me, and you will be the one pulling the trigger on the gun that killed me."

She shook her head, weakly, then tried to rally. "This will destroy Laura. Not to mention Lucky. Don't you know that? You must stop it. Immediately. It's not too late."

"It's much too late," Nikolas contradicted her. He could feel a feral smile stretching his lips, and he did nothing to stop it. "My affair with Lucky is the only insurance I have, the only protection he has. As long as Lucky remains programmed, I intend to see to it that I remain Lucky's primary target. You cannot destroy Lucky without destroying me, and by destroying me, you destroy yourself."

Stalking past her to the door, he opened it and swept his arm in a courtly gesture, ushering her out. "Have a pleasant day, Helena," he called after her departing figure.

He had no way of knowing that for the first time in his life, he truly sounded like his father's son.

 

Crouching in the bushes, peering around the corner, Luke Spencer slouched against the wall and let the shock he'd been fighting for the past twenty minutes overwhelm him.

He'd been reluctantly impressed with the balls Nikolas had shown when he'd cornered Luke in his office. It was the first time the kid had really reminded him of Laura. All that protective fury, those well-aimed words, the complete lack of fear in his eyes. The boy looked a hundred per cent Cassadine, but he got his spine from his mother.

Keeping an eye on Helena had become his raison d'être ever since he'd discovered how deeply fucked up she'd left his son. So when she'd headed out for her little rendezvous with her grandson, he'd shadowed her, determined to find out what was going on.

Spying through the blinds into Ashton's office, he'd gotten a hell of an eyeful. Not exactly what he'd been expecting.

Frozen to the spot, he'd heard every word of Nikolas' challenge to the old bat. It had been beautiful, in a twisted, logical, triple-thinking sort of way that left Luke breathless. It would seem that Nikolas was as determined to protect Lucky from Helena as Luke was.

He just had a very different way of going about it.

As reluctantly as he'd been impressed with the Cassadine brat in his office, he was even more reluctantly admiring of Nikolas' bizarre and effective way of keeping Lucky from going off the deep end. As Luke had known, Nikolas was the only thing Helena gave a damn about. By making sure that he'd be the first one Lucky took out, he'd also ensured that Lucky took _no one_ out.

Watching Helena wander off down the walkway looking punch-drunk, he glanced over at Nikolas, glaring off after his grandmother like he'd like to blow her head off with a bazooka. Luke appreciated the feeling. He also appreciated a manipulator who'd made a master's move. Settling against the wall until the coast was clear and he could make a clean getaway, he looked back over to where Helena was crawling into her limo with the help of her pretty boy muscle.

"Check," he whispered silently to her fleeing back, "and mate."

 

_Autumn (madhouse), following  Variations on a Corpse and Mindgames._

Nikolas had proven himself a true Cassadine in his efforts to prevent Helena from utilizing her tool to its fullest. Embarking on a sexual affair with Lucky, entwining himself thoroughly into young Master Spencer's life until Nikolas was Lucky's primary concern thus placing himself in the crosshairs should Helena trigger Lucky's terminal programming, had been a master stroke.

It was not, however, the final move in the game. With Helena, only death could end the match. Given her propensity for hidden surprises, perhaps even death wouldn't see the end of her schemes.

Content for the moment to retreat and regroup, she watched from the sidelines. Her grandson was intelligent, and he was a Cassadine, but he was also only a boy, and as such was both impatient and short-sighted. With time and distance, he would lose his wariness and grow comfortable. Life would resume its usual tenor. He would find other distractions. Lucky would grow closer to Elizabeth. What once had been an undesirable match had become highly desired; if the Spencer boy was in love with the girl, then she would displace Nikolas in his affections, and Lucky's usefulness as a weapon would be restored.

Gia was an unexpected complication, and an unpleasant one. However, the girl was pretty in a common sort of way, and if she could distract Nikolas, all the better. Once the bond between the brothers was weakened and the physical attraction between them was deflected elsewhere, she could continue with her plans. Time and experience were her finest weapons, and she was a past master in their use.

Not one to allow any possibility, no matter how crude, to escape her notice and potential use, Helena took a step she'd held in reserve. She spoke with her lawyer; she made her plans. It would break her heart to do so, but there was no alternative. For his own sake, for the sake of the Cassadine legacy, Nikolas would have to be controlled.

Committed.

If nothing else, the videotape would be helpful at the hearings. Closed, of course. Money would ensure discretion. Power would ensure compliance.

She smiled. It was truly unfortunate that it should come to this. But one way or another, Nikolas would do as she commanded.

 

It shouldn't have shocked him as strongly as it did. Discovering that his grandmother, unnatural hag that she was, had begun the paperwork to have him committed to a mental institution against his will was the final blow to the travesty of their relationship. Nikolas found himself hissing into her face like a snake, one hand clamped around her windpipe, a breath away from throttling her to death and throwing her body off the pier.

He stopped himself. Barely. Told her she'd rot in hell before she ever got her gnarled hands on a cent of the Cassadine fortune. Told her time would stop before he would ever allow her to be in a position to harm him again.

She complimented him. Told him he'd never sounded more like his father. Pride gleamed from her eyes. She actually meant it.

It was a draw between the fact that she was proud of him for nearly killing her and the fact that he had come so close, with no remorse, to doing so. Either was enough to make him want to vomit. Both combined made him tremble like a leaf. Not that he allowed her to see it.

Gia felt it when she held his arm. He escaped her as quickly as he could.

Elizabeth was with Lucky when he arrived at Kelly's. As usual. He stared at his brother with the same intensity he'd shown on the dock in the altercation with Helena. Lucky caught on without his having to say a word. Nikolas left, unable to go into details without losing what was left of his composure. A short time later, Lucky met him at the boxcar.

"What happened, Nikolas?" Cornflower blue eyes stared at him through the dim interior of the old railway car, concern making them brighter than usual. To the point, as always, his little brother.

"Helena." The 'of course' was silent, but Lucky heard it. He ambled over and settled down next to Nikolas on the blanket spread across the rough wooden floor. Nikolas leaned his shoulder into the welcome warmth Lucky provided. After the confrontation he'd had with his grandmother on the docks, he hadn't thought he'd ever feel warm again. How could someone who professed to love him plan such a horrible fate for him?

"What'd she do now?" Lucky prodded him. Nikolas took a deep breath, staring into the distance.

"She's trying to use her trusteeship to get me confined to a mental institution against my will."

Lucky exploded away from him, pacing the length of the car and back, closer to a wild animal than a sentient human being.

"That fucking bitch!" His hands were clenched into fists. He was practically vibrating from anger. Nikolas stared at him, entranced. Such fury, such violent protectiveness, all for him. "How the hell could she do something so -- so -- so sick? She's all the time going on about how much she loves you then she goes and hurts you! All the time! She is so damned sick! She needs to be put down, like some kind of rabid dog, before she kills you!"

"I nearly killed her tonight."

Nikolas' quiet words cut across Lucky's rage, silencing him completely. Lucky stopped in his tracks and stared down at his brother. Nikolas waved a hand vaguely in the air, fingers curled as if to choke an invisible victim.

"I took her throat in my hand and I tightened my grip. I could have strangled her and thrown her corpse in the river." Lucky dropped to his knees beside Nikolas and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I nearly did it. Nearly finished it. Finally. Forever."

"How'd you stop yourself?" Lucky's question was as quiet as Nikolas' musing.

"She would have been proud of me." Nikolas wasn't sure if he shuddered or Lucky had. The only thing he knew was that Lucky was holding on to him and there were tears on Lucky's face. "I didn't want her to be proud of me."

"I want her dead," Lucky growled. It sounded muted, as if he was having trouble forcing words out of his throat.

Nikolas turned in Lucky's arms and buried his face in warm soft blond hair. His arms came up around Lucky's broad back and he held on as tightly as he was being held. "I couldn't do it. Couldn't be what she tried to make me."

"You're better than that," Lucky whispered against his ear. "_I'm_ proud of you. You're so much better than her."

He burrowed closer. "I'm just like her. Just like my father. Just like all of them."

"No!" Lucky drew back, forcing Nikolas from his haven, cupping Nikolas' chin in his hand and putting their faces so close together Nikolas could taste Lucky's breath. Mint. Coffee. Lipstick. Elizabeth, no doubt. Lucky's fierce words brought him back to the present.

"You've got your dad in you, yeah, just like I've got mine. But we're better than that, 'cause we've got Mom in us, too, and we've got each other, and we're never gonna be crazy and stupid and spiteful and horrible like that. The war's over and we won. You hear me? She's beaten. You won! I won! They will _never_ win, as long as we stick together!"

Nikolas stared at the fire in his brother's eyes and the fear on his face, and couldn't stand the thought that he'd put it there. That Helena had caused him to put it there. Again. Reaching up with his free hand, he tangled it in Lucky's hair and closed the small gap between their faces. Noses bumped, then lips, and he was kissing Lucky, deep and hard, subsuming his innate hatred of his heritage in the one beautiful thing included in it.

Being a Cassadine was a curse. Being connected to Lucky was the sweetest part of his life. If he had to suffer through the first to hold on to the second, he would do it. He would do anything to maintain the tie between himself and his brother.

When they broke for air, Lucky leaned his forehead against Nikolas' and said softly, "We'll stop her. She's not taking you away from me."

"Promise?" It was a sincere plea for reassurance disguised as playful teasing. Lucky took him seriously.

"On my life." With that, he cradled Nikolas' head in his hands and began to kiss him again.

Heat, and life, and love. All the emotions his family pulled from Nikolas flowed back into him, and he arched into Lucky's kiss. His hands came up and started to pull at material, sliding under Lucky's shirt to stroke the warm skin along his ribs, up his sides, over his heart.

Lucky responded without breaking the kiss, his own hands running under Nikolas' coat, flicking open buttons to bare his skin to the evening air. Fingers played with the hair in the center of his chest, then followed it down to the fly of his jeans. "Cold?"

Nikolas could barely make out the word murmured against his lips. When he did understand what he was being asked, he almost laughed. He was as far from cold as he could get without spontaneously igniting. "Come here," he ordered Lucky, rolling them onto the blanket, stopping only when he had Lucky pinned beneath him where he couldn't get away.

Not that Lucky was trying to escape. Quite the contrary. His hands hadn't stopped working at Nikolas' fly, and from there into his boxers. Now he had his fingers wrapped around the prize. Nikolas froze. The alternative was coming immediately. Not what he wanted. Right then, he needed to reestablish his connection to Lucky. For that, a quick one wouldn't work.

He needed to make love.

His hand closed over Lucky's. "Take it slow," he said quietly. Lucky stopped moving beneath him and lay there looking up at him. "Make it last."

The smile he got in response nearly blinded him. "We can do that."

And he did. Whatever else he'd been doing with Elizabeth, he'd been working on his timing. It was exquisite.

With hands and mouth and body, pausing to take stock as he went, he proceeded to drive Nikolas completely out of himself. They rolled again on the blanket, this time ending with Lucky on top. Lucky stripped Nikolas with the care of a man unwrapping a precious gift. Shielding him from the breeze coming through the warped boards in the boxcar's walls with his own body, Lucky kept Nikolas warm, then made him hot, then melted him completely. Nikolas was begging by the time Lucky finally took him in his mouth and allowed him his orgasm. Nikolas retained just enough sanity to reach down and stop Lucky when he would have helped himself, stilling Lucky's hand.

"In me," he whispered. Lucky shivered, and Nikolas saw fire leap in his brother's eyes.

"As far in you as you are in me," Lucky replied with unusual sensitivity, and Nikolas smiled at another lesson Elizabeth had taught him. Then Lucky was pushing into him, and the smile disappeared into a gasp that Lucky swallowed with a kiss.

What remained of his troubles, his worries and his fears were overwhelmed with heat and friction, concentrating every thought he had on the movement inside him. Nikolas could physically feel the connection between them being strengthened with each thrust, with each kiss. The ice Helena had sown in him, thawed by the love Lucky had shown him, dissolved completely in this inferno. He tightened his arms and legs around Lucky and urged him on.

It ended sooner than he'd've liked, but then if it _had_ gone on forever he'd never be able to walk again. The mental image of himself walking bowlegged caught him by surprise and he smothered his chuckle against Lucky's shoulder as Lucky bucked against him. Then Lucky shuddered, and Nikolas held him through it, catching him as Lucky collapsed against him.

"You and me against the world," he whispered against his brother's sweat-soaked hair.

"You got that," Lucky mumbled. Nikolas grinned. Sex always wiped Lucky out.

"You know if you fall asleep here you'll freeze your butt off before morning," Nikolas pointed out, feeling ridiculously cheerful. Lucky grumbled something irritable and untranslatable. "Sorry, that's not one of the six languages I speak."

The tousled blond head rose and half-laughing, half-baleful eyes stared down into his. "Gotta have the last word, huh?"

"No," Nikolas answered, suddenly serious. "I don't want any last words. Not with you."

The stare softened and Lucky reached down to peck the end of his nose. "Okay." Then he rolled off Nikolas and reached for his clothes. Nikolas watched him for a moment.

"Are you sure you're not still brainwashed? That was much too easy."

In response, Lucky hit him over the head with his jacket. Laughing and wrestling, they got dressed and headed back toward town. Life was as close to normal as it ever got with them. They'd deal with Helena when they had to do it. Until then, they'd just watch one another's backs. They were good at that.

The next day, the world swung on its axis again. The threat receded as the dead returned to life. Events took on a surreal edge even deeper than the usual insanity of life as a Cassadine. Lucky was asking him a favor, something to do with his Jag and a stolen weekend with Elizabeth, when a familiar voice froze Nikolas in his tracks.

"Stefan?" His voice cracked. He knew he was staring. He couldn't seem to move.

The man standing next to the nurses' desk turned, and Nikolas' knees got shaky. It was his uncle. His uncle, whom his grandmother had murdered, only he wasn't dead. He was alive. He was alive, and he was hugging Nikolas hard, and joy was singing through Nikolas' brain.

All was truly right with the world. And he hadn't even had to murder his grandmother to make it so.

There were questions, and he was babbling, and he was beaming, and he couldn't seem to stop touching Stefan. Lucky was right beside him, and Helena was nowhere in sight, and everything was going to be fine.

Lucky told him he'd be more than willing to take a rain check on the weekend with Elizabeth, and Nikolas heard every word Lucky didn't say. That Lucky knew Nikolas was off-balance, and was there to catch him if he fell. That Lucky put Nikolas before anyone else, and regardless of her expectations, if Nikolas needed him, Elizabeth would wait. Nikolas heard it, and appreciated it, and sent Lucky back to her. He had a lot to think about, but if he knew only one thing, it was that Lucky was his, and Lucky knew it as well. Secure in that knowledge, Nikolas could be generous.

Besides, Stefan was meeting him for dinner and they had a lot to talk about.

Oddly enough, by the time they got back home that evening and got Gia out of the way, he felt just as off balance as he had when he'd discovered Stefan was alive. They'd talked long into the night, and he'd convinced Stefan to stay in the guest room. Nikolas felt decidedly unsettled and didn't want his uncle too far away just yet. Stefan was hiding something. And Nikolas couldn't help wondering what Helena would do now that her plans for Stefan had been foiled.

No amount of self-reassurance that he was starting at shadows could comfort Nikolas that night. He reached for the telephone, then drew his hand back as he remembered where Lucky was. Out of reach.

With Elizabeth.

 

Lucky tipped the guy who'd brought them to the cabin and gratefully locked the door. It had been a roller coaster of a day and it wasn't over yet. He smiled at Elizabeth's enthusiasm for the candles and the decor and the huge bed. She was more than ready for this.

So was he, but he was distracted. Nikolas needed him, no matter that he'd practically shoved Lucky out the door to go take Elizabeth away for this romantic weekend getaway. His brother was seriously unsettled by Stefan's return from the dead, and all Lucky's instincts were waving big red flags. Something was off about this whole thing. He knew Nikolas loved Stefan but he also knew Stefan was almost as big a schemer as Helena. He didn't want Nikolas to get hurt.

Again.

Shrugging off the thought that there wasn't a damned thing he could do to protect his brother at the moment, adding the mental footnote that at least with Stefan back Helena had another target in her sight, Lucky took Elizabeth in his arms and did his best to make her first consensual experience a good one. Rape didn't count. That was just a bad memory he'd do his best to take away.

He didn't exactly lie when he said she was his first. She was his first girl, his first love, and the first time he'd made love to a woman when he actually wanted to. Just as rape didn't count with her, it didn't count with him either, and what Helena had done to him was definitely rape. Mind rape _and_ body rape. The only good thing to come out of all of it had been Nikolas.

Burying his face in the sweet-smelling curve of Elizabeth's breasts, he wondered how it could feel so right to make love to her when he loved Nikolas, too. Drawing his hands along the line of her hips, gently pushing her thighs apart and kissing her everywhere he could reach, he realized that he'd made his decision a long time ago. Maybe it had started with what Helena had done to him, but Helena hadn't made him love Nikolas, any more than she could make him not love Elizabeth. He loved them both.

Nikolas was part of him. Elizabeth held his heart in her hands, but Nikolas was his soul. He could no more do without either than he could live without breathing. A peaceful feeling settled over him as he took her in his arms and swallowed her cries. They'd all made it through hell to get to where they were, with the people they loved. He wasn't going to give up either one of them. They were his, just as he was theirs.

When he got back to Port Charles, he'd make damned sure Nikolas knew that, too. Until then, he'd share with Elizabeth every ounce of tenderness he'd ever learned. She was worth it.

So was he.

Lucky smiled over the fact that it was the thought of Nikolas that tripped him into climax. Elizabeth never knew. And if he could help it, she never would.

 

Sunday Nikolas rode his horse until his spine felt like it had been compressed to mush. Currying took a long time, but not long enough. By the time he returned to the cottage Gia was in bed. It was a good thing. He was confused enough with everything else that was going on in the tangled skein that was his life. He didn't need her tempting him on top of it all.

Stretching out the kinks, stripped to his shorts on the living room floor, he didn't hear her slink down the stairs. The first he was aware of her presence was the breathy little moan she gave when he planted his feet wide and arched his back, hands over his head, neck extended, eyes closed. For a moment, he thought it was Lucky, and he hardened involuntarily. With his pelvis thrust up toward the ceiling he must have given her quite a show, because the second little breathy moan wasn't nearly as quiet as the first one. Letting his breath out he slowly relaxed from the stretch, groaning slightly himself at the release in tension in his muscles.

His erection didn't fade. She looked lovely, posed against the railing, watching him. He could see the hunger in her eyes even across the room. Content to watch and wait, he lay against the exercise mat and returned her stare. Her nerve failed, as it always did when it came down to the wire, and she turned and walked quickly back up the stairs. His hand came down to stroke himself, once, through his shorts, then he took a deep breath and let it out with a gust.

She wasn't really the one he wanted. She was just the one he'd take if he couldn't have the one he wanted. The one he wanted was off in a cabin in the woods making love to Elizabeth. When had his life become so complicated? The small logical voice in the back of his brain that Nikolas both loathed and listened to laughed at him.

When had it ever been anything _but_ complicated?

Swabbing off the sweat with a towel, he wandered up to his room. He paused outside Gia's door, but there were no sounds of movement within, and no signs of welcome without, so he continued on to his room. Throwing himself on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered what Helena would do next. What Stefan's countermove would be. Where he, Nikolas, would end up in the eternal deadly tug-of-war that was the Cassadine family legacy.

Unsure what prompted the impulse, he pulled his clothes back on and headed out to Windemere. He felt the need to be close to someone he loved, and since Lucky was out with Elizabeth, that left Stefan. He let himself into the mansion and walked silently up the stairs to his old room. Exchanging his outdoor clothing for a pair of sweatpants, he fell into bed.

Stared at the ceiling some more. At least it was a more interesting ceiling than the one at his rental cottage.

He didn't know when he fell asleep. The only thing he knew was that he couldn't move. His arms were strapped to a gurney and his body was naked, shivering in the cold breeze chilling the pure white room. He opened his mouth to scream.

No one heard him.

The door opened, slamming against the padded wall before clanging shut. He heard a lock engage. Two men were standing beside him, towering over him. They were huge, pale-skinned and threatening, dead eyes devouring him. Then their hands were on him, and his mouth was open to scream again, only this time one of them shoved his cock down Nikolas' throat and the scream couldn't escape.

The straps remained around his arms and his wrists, but his legs were free. Before he could kick out, risking suffocation from the heft stretching his throat, his ankles were clasped in a bruising grip and his legs were shoved apart. The second man was straddling the gurney, pulling at his hips, shoving into his ass, splitting him apart. It hurt, and he couldn't scream, couldn't move, couldn't fight, couldn't escape. His eyes were watering and his heart was thundering so loudly in his chest he thought it might explode.

Then the light was blocked to the side of him and he looked past the belly of the man raping his mouth to see Helena standing beside them, smiling beatifically. Her eyes were full of love and madness. She reached out and stroked his cheek with her fingertips, outlining the bulging skin where the man's cock was moving in and out of his mouth.

"My beautiful Nikolas. See what I've done for you? You'll be safe here. No one will ever find you again."

He was struggling for air when he saw another figure beside her. The image was too blurry from the tears swimming in his eyes to determine who it could be. Then the man thrusting into his mouth pulled out and shot sticky fluid all over his face, mixing with the tears and the sweat.

"My turn," the figure said gleefully before leaning in and licking the mess from Nikolas' skin.

Lucky. As he'd been under the spell of Helena's programming. With blank eyes and a vacant expression, lust darkening his eyes. Nikolas tried to cry out, tried to ask him why, then Lucky was feeding Nikolas his cock, moaning in a parody of the passion they had together, and Nikolas was suffocating again. The man between his legs grunted and slammed into him, and Nikolas felt blood and semen ooze from his body as the man was pulled away from him. Dimly in the background he heard a tattoo beaten upon wood, the drum calling the celebrants to the feast, a voice barely heard calling his name.

Before he could appreciate the cessation of pain, another body took the man's place. This one was slight, compact, but still powerful. He thrust into Nikolas' torn body without tenderness, groaning when Nikolas instinctively tightened around him. Lucky arched harder, deeper down Nikolas' throat, and he was able to see around his brother's waist the identity of the man now raping his ass.

Stefan. It couldn't be. This time, somehow, around the bulk in his throat, his scream could be heard.

"Why?!"

Wiry arms were around him, and he was clutching warm cotton and soft skin, crying into the embrace of the man holding him. Words of comfort poured gently from the man's mouth. Nikolas was pulled from the depths of his nightmare world to find himself held tightly in his uncle's arms.

He nearly broke an arm getting away from him. Stefan stared at him, uncomprehending. One hand reached out for him.

"No! Why? You're dead. How could you?" Nikolas knew he wasn't making any sense, but couldn't stop himself from gibbering. In the low light, Stefan appeared ghostly, a specter from the dream world hell who had followed him back into reality.

"You had a nightmare. It's all right. I'm not dead, Nikolas. I'm right here." Stefan looked like he was in pain.

Nikolas remained curled into a small fetal ball against the headboard. After several tries, he got enough moisture into his mouth to be able to form a sentence. "I'm sorry," he eventually managed to say. "You're right. I'm all right. Please. Go back to bed."

Stefan stared at him for a long time before nodding, once. "If you're certain?"

Nikolas nodded, barely containing his relief. He needed to be alone to process this.

After an hour of staring at nothing in particular, he knew he wasn't going to be able to close his eyes for the rest of the night. Dressing silently, he slipped out the door. Perhaps cold air and the sound of the water would clear the last remnants of hell from his subconscious. The boat ride back to the mainland was too short, and his phantoms followed him to the docks. Helena's threat hovered over him like an unshakeable shadow.

He didn't know how long he stood staring into the inky blackness of the water. His hands were numb in his pockets and his cheeks felt stiff from the cold when an arm came around his shoulders and another familiar voice spoke next to his ear.

"Wanna tell me about it, brother, or you gonna stand here 'til you turn into a Popsicle?"

Nikolas turned to face Lucky, watching laughter drain from those blue eyes and worry replace it. He could see his own face reflected in Lucky's eyes, and he looked like death barely warmed over.

"You okay, Nikolas?" Lucky's other arm came around him, and Nikolas leaned into the proffered warmth. Again.

"No," he answered, surprised in a distant way at how calm he sounded.

"What can I do?" Lucky asked without a pause to think. It was one of the aspects Nikolas appreciated most about his brother. He led with his heart.

"Take me home." Warm me up. Save me from my family. From myself.

"No problem." Lucky led him directly up the steps of the wharf to Kelly's, in through the side door, up the stairs and to his room. Nikolas looked blankly at the door to Elizabeth's room, but couldn't find enough energy to ask where she was. He only prayed bleakly she wasn't waiting in Lucky's bed.

Someone somewhere was listening. There was no one in the bed but himself, soon upon entering the room. Lucky didn't press him, simply undressed him, rubbing chilled limbs gently before tucking him between the sheets. Then he perched on the side of the bed and stared down at him.

"You wanna talk about it?"

What? The thought that I'm losing my mind and, even more importantly, losing the match with my grandmother and my uncle? The thought that I could well end up in a mental institution out of need, not conniving, if they continue to catch us up in their warfare? He spoke none of his thoughts, blinking nightmare images away and turning over onto his side, facing away from his brother's too-intent stare. "Can't. Yet. Sorry." He seemed to be apologizing a lot lately.

A warm hand touched his shoulder, then petted his back awkwardly. "What can I do?"

Go away. Come closer. Hold on. Leave me alone. Conflicting thoughts kept Nikolas silent again, but he couldn't control his shivering. Lucky seemed to take that as a cue, climbing into bed and enfolding Nikolas in his arms. The last thing Nikolas remembered before he fell asleep again was that he didn't want to escape that hold. This time, he didn't dream.

In the morning he was awakened by sunlight through the window, a sleepy mouth working against the side of his neck, a lazy erection stroking against his ass and wandering hands teasing him to hardness. The ghosts of the night were blown away by the sheer contentment of feeling safe. Wanted, and safe.

With Lucky beside him, it didn't matter what his family might try to do. He and his brother had beaten them before. They'd beat them again. No matter how crazy their lives were, they were their own, and no one, no matter how devious, would be allowed to take them away from them. He smiled into the pillow at his convoluted but determined thoughts. Then he arched his back, pushing himself against Lucky's cock, groaning low in his throat when his brother took him up on the invitation.

Life was too good to let the shadows of the Cassadine legacy destroy him. And now, he had allies. Stefan, back from the dead. Alexis, set to protect him. Laura, a lioness defending her cubs. And Lucky, buried in Nikolas' soul as he was buried in his body.

 

Elizabeth woke up with a smile on her face, then reached out to touch Lucky. Her hand brushed the indentation on the pillow, but no shaggy blond head lying there. Her smile sagged. The pillow was cold.

Wherever Lucky had gone, it had been some time ago.

Curious, and not a little concerned given the strange things that Helena had been up to with her boyfriend, Elizabeth dressed hurriedly and headed for the stairs. As she passed Lucky's room, a noise from inside stopped her in her tracks.

The bed springs were squeaking. And somebody was moaning, very, very quietly. It didn't sound like Lucky.

Her brain froze along with her heart. Then fierce anger stormed through her from out of nowhere, sending her into an instant fury. Her hand scrabbled in her pocket, dragging her key ring out. Stabbing the door knob with her key, she started to slam it open, infuriated further when the key got stuck so the door only swung clear a few inches, silently. Just far enough for her to see onto the bed.

What she saw rooted her feet to the carpet. Her hand automatically rose to catch the door, partly to stop it from moving further, partly to stop her from falling when her knees gave out. Lucky wasn't cheating on her with some girl.

Lucky was making love to Nikolas.

And it was definitely making love. What they were doing was much too tender to simply be two guys fucking. Nikolas was lying on his side, one hand clutching the pillow that was not quite muffling his moans, the other angled back behind him to hold on to Lucky's hip. Which was moving.

She recognized the rhythm.

Lucky's head was buried in the curve where Nikolas' neck met his shoulder, and his mouth was open, licking and sucking the skin there. Their skin glistened with sweat and their muscles trembled as they moved against one another. Blood flushed highlights at cheek and throat, chest and groin. The artist in her cataloged and appreciated the intricate knot they made.

Early morning sunlight glanced off the dusting of hair on their bodies, making a striking contrast between Lucky's creamy skin and golden hair and Nikolas' sable hair and caramel skin. Nikolas' mouth was open against the white linen of the pillowcase. His lips looked swollen. His knuckles were pale with strain as he gripped the linen hard in his fist. His eyelashes were long and full, casting shadows on his cheeks. Both men had their eyes shut.

Thank God.

Rational thought was nowhere to be found and she acted on instinct, withdrawing just enough to be able to watch without being seen. Climax caught Nikolas first, and her eyes were drawn to his crotch, the dusky skin rosy between Lucky's fingers. His orgasm splattered against the dark hair on his abdomen, caught like milk spilled across the fur. Lucky made a sound she knew, breath caught in his chest, then rocked hard against Nikolas, much harder than he allowed himself to move against her.

When he stilled, Lucky pressed kisses along the curve of Nikolas' shoulder. Nikolas raised Lucky's hand, sticky with his semen, up to his mouth. He licked a few drops from the palm, then curled the fingers into a fist and dropped a kiss on the knuckles.

There was a gentleness in the moment she couldn't have imagined in her wildest dreams.

Nikolas' eyelashes fluttered and she stepped back into the hall, closing the door silently, locking it and slipping her key out of the handle. From inside she could hear the men murmuring to one another, and she hurried down the stairs as quickly as she could without actually running.

Lucky said he loved her. She knew he loved her. A permanent lock, that's what he'd said. Her love had kept him going.

It looked like it wasn't just _her_ love that kept him going.

Staring through the window at the people passing by on the docks, she wondered what on Earth she was supposed to do now. The man she loved was having an affair. With his brother. Whom she also cared about and didn't want to see hurt. She blinked. It had been obvious from what she'd seen that they really did love one another, too. She had no idea how she was going to handle this little surprise. Life seemed intent on keeping her off balance.

She didn't know how long she stood there, staring blankly at the world going by, before the clatter of footsteps down the stairs brought her attention back to the room. Watching their reflections in the mirror, she saw a vulnerability on Nikolas' face that she'd never seen. Never expected to see, and never looked for. It was matched with a glow in Lucky's she'd only seen when he looked at her. For an instant, jealousy so strong it made her choke washed through her. Then she heard what Nikolas said to Lucky.

"Thank you, little brother. You saved my life last night."

And what Lucky replied. "Anytime. You can talk to me, Nikolas. When you're ready. You know that."

"I know." Then Nikolas smiled at him, a smile she'd never seen but recognized anyway. It was the same one she gave Lucky. The one that said she loved him without her ever having to say a word.

She was still thinking about that smile and those words when Lucky came over and put his arm around her waist. She turned toward him, and he dropped a sweet kiss on her lips. She imagined she could taste Nikolas on him.

To her faint surprise, it didn't disgust her. Quite the opposite. It filled her with warmth. Nikolas loved him. So did she. And he loved both of them. She found herself smiling up at Lucky then turning that smile into a longer kiss.

Just because it was a permanent lock didn't mean it was a proprietary lock. She snuggled up against Lucky's shoulder and felt more than saw him stare off down the road at Nikolas. She could share if she had to, and from the look of it, she did.

His arms tightened around her.

He was worth it.

They both were.

 

_Final Phase (Follows Autumn)_

He thought he understood betrayal. His father figure, the man he'd thought was his father who was actually his uncle, had redefined the word in ways that had torn Nikolas Cassadine to pieces and left him adrift. It was even worse than his grandmother's schemes. She was horrible enough, kidnapping and brainwashing his brother, trying to get Nikolas himself confined to a madhouse, nearly killing his cousin Alexis.

But when Stefan allowed Nikolas to think he was dead, allowed him to grieve, all for the sake of a score against Helena in their never-ending battle, it was betrayal at the deepest level. That was it, the final straw. As far as Nikolas was concerned, he didn't have an uncle. Didn't have a grandmother. The only family he had was his mother Laura, his cousin Alexis, and his brother Lucky. The rest of them could go to hell as far as he was concerned.

It couldn't happen soon enough, for all the hell they put everyone else through.

He stared around the broken and scattered remains of his sitting room, ignoring Gia hovering worriedly in the background, and stalked out the door. Riding helped. Up on his horse, tearing through the trails in the hills outside Port Charles, nothing existed but the wind and the movement. No pain. No loss. No betrayal. No ties to anything or anyone.

It was better that way.

When he got back to the house, to his dim surprise, Gia had actually cleaned up his mess. He stumbled upstairs, drained and tired, pulling his clothes off as he wandered into his bedroom.

She was lying between the sheets, naked but for an inviting smile and liquid dark eyes. He climbed in next to her. For a few stolen hours he lost himself in her and she was almost as effective in separating his mind from reality as the wind and the wilderness.

An invisible wall rose between him and the rest of the world, even as he was moving over her, even as she was clawing his skin and bucking beneath him. When it was over, she fell asleep next to him. He looked down at her face, empty for once of artifice and manipulation, and wondered why he bothered. He couldn't feel anything but vague pity and physical exhaustion. Inching away from her until they were no longer touching, he turned on his side facing the window and watched the sky until morning.

The next few weeks were strange. Gia tried to mother him, and he let her, mainly because it was too much trouble to avoid her. He cried, a few times, and he raged, more often, but for the most part he simply drifted. Gia and Elizabeth went head to head over a modeling job and he tried not to get in the middle of their silly competition. Lucky was busy with his photography and Elizabeth. Nikolas seldom saw him, and he could feel them drifting apart, but he couldn't seem to reach out there, either.

The wall grew higher and thicker.

Stefan tried to talk to him, even tried to intimidate Laura into intervening. Funny, but Nikolas had never thought of Stefan as stupid before. None of it worked, of course. He'd heard the arguments too many times, and when Stefan begged, when Stefan cried, all he could feel was a distant anger coupled with disgust. How gullible did Stefan think he was? He had been, in the past. That was all over now.

He withdrew into himself, putting on an act for Laura, avoiding Lucky and Elizabeth, Emily and Zander, ignoring Stefan, sleeping with Gia but listening to her more often than talking to her. She preferred it that way, and so did he. He stopped caring what Helena might be up to, stopped caring about the war between the Spencers and the Cassadines, within the Cassadine clan itself. It didn't matter.

None of it mattered.

 

Luke threw another shot of whiskey down his throat and grimaced, more at the crazy way his thoughts chased each other than at the fire racing down his throat to warm the pit of his belly. He had to crack those disks. He was no closer to decoding them than before he'd stolen the damned things from the safe deposit box in Istanbul.

Helena was up to something. It would be easy, a relief, really, to go ahead and murder the bitch. He could find a way to do it and nobody'd be the wiser. But if he trusted anything, he trusted that she would find a way to reach out from beyond the grave and screw with his kid.

Too bad he couldn't get his kid to believe it. Closing his eyes, he relived the latest fiasco of a confrontation with Lucky. The boy'd practically gone for his throat. Luke thought back to what Doctor Collins had said about watching for strange reactions from Lucky, to see if there was any indication what the buried trigger might be for Helena's deep programming. Unfortunately, all Luke saw and all he heard every time he got around Lucky was an anger that bordered on maniacal.

Got it from his dad. Hell of a thing to pass on to his kid.

He gulped down the rest of the rot-gut in his glass and glared down at the papers stacked haphazardly all over his desk top. He'd been kicking this around in his brain for too damned long, and he had a sneaking suspicion he was running out of time. He didn't want to do it, but it looked like he had to go talk to the only person he knew who could really help. Laura hadn't been any good. Lucky'd been almost as angry with her as he had with Luke. No, this wasn't a case when he'd listen to his parents.

Luke sighed. Strode to the door, locked it behind him, and headed off to find Lucky's half-brother. Much as he couldn't stand the little punk, Helena's grandson was the only thing standing between Lucky and disaster. Luke intended to make damned sure Nikolas stayed there.

 

Nikolas looked up when the door to L &amp; B opened. Only years of training kept his composure intact. What business could Luke have with Ned? Or Chloe? Or even Alexis? Ned was out on a gig. Chloe was off sketching. Alexis was in court. That just left himself. He couldn't think of anything Luke might want of him, although one could never tell what worm was eating Luke's brain at any given moment.

"May I help you?" he asked with scrupulous civility.

Luke fidgeted before perching with studied nonchalance on the arm of the sofa. Nikolas stared at him. Luke looked all over the studio before glaring at a point somewhere behind and above Nikolas' left shoulder.

"Man, this is tougher than I thought it'd be."

When nothing more was forthcoming, Nikolas put the contracts he'd been studying aside and watched Luke warily. Luke's nervous movements looked uncannily familiar, and he realized it was a mannerism Lucky had inherited from his father. The thought made him tense up slightly. He didn’t like reminders of the blood he didn't share with his brother. He didn't trust Luke.

"What's wrong, Luke? Is it Lucky? Has Helena done something?" His voice got louder and more strident as he went along, and he bit his lip to stop any more words from tumbling out.

Luke's eyes flickered toward him, then back to the spot behind him. "You could say that. She messed with his mind."

Nikolas forced himself to stay calm. "We know that. He's worked through that with Kevin Collins. He has a handle on it. Why are you here now? Has something new happened?" Dread was gathering in his stomach.

"Not new, same old, same old, but about to get ratcheted up a notch or six."

"Speak plainly!" Nikolas barked at him. Luke blinked, then looked directly at him and held the look for the first time since coming into the studio. The normally arrogant blue eyes were oddly unsure.

"She left something behind. Deeper programming, set to trigger on her command, and set him on a search and destroy mission. And I think she's about to pull that trigger."

The wall that had been thickening around Nikolas for weeks wavered, and a crack appeared. He wouldn't get drawn back into Luke and Helena's war, no. But he would do whatever he could to protect his brother.

"I know. Why are you telling me this now?"

Blue eyes shifted away again, and a faint blush washed over Luke's face. "Uhm, well. Yeah. That's the tough part." He cleared his throat, then said in a rush, "I know you kept her from hurting him last time by making sure you'd be his first target and I just need to know that that's still the case and I don't have to do anything drastic like buy kevlar for Lulu or lock Lucky up in a stone cage until the murderous impulses pass."

A moment passed in silence heavy enough to burst eardrums. It was Nikolas' turn to swallow before he could speak. "How, precisely, did you know that?" He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask if Luke knew that he and Lucky had made love.

"Tailed Helena. Saw her give you an ultimatum, right here, a coupla months ago. Saw you turn it right around on her to protect my boy." Luke's eyes dipped, skated past Nikolas' face, then fastened on the floor. "Didn't say anything at the time 'cause it wasn't my deal, and it worked. Needed to make sure it was still working so there's some deterrence to Helena turning Lucky into a guided missile any time soon."

The only thing Nikolas could think to say wasn't anything Luke should hear. Most of it was curses, in Greek, French, German and English, a litany of disbelieving anger. At Helena, for stirring up the trouble to begin with. At Lucky, even though it wasn't his fault Helena had turned his brain into soup. At Luke, for battering down the wall Nikolas had worked so hard to build. At himself, for letting things get so far out of hand, and not noticing that his brother needed him.

"Shit," Luke interjected disgustedly when Nikolas didn't respond. "Never thought I'd see the day when I was rooting for my son to have a fling with his half-brother. Sure never thought I'd see the day when I was encouraging any Cassadine to take a Spencer to bed."

"But you are," Nikolas said absently, busy mentally castigating himself for his carelessness. A choking sound brought him back to the present. Luke's face was an unbecoming shade of puce. "Don't stroke out, Luke. I know what I have to do to make sure Helena doesn't hurt Lucky, or anyone Lucky loves."

Luke nodded, flashed a look at him once more, then got up and practically ran out the door. Nikolas stared sightlessly after him.

The wall cracked all the way down the middle, and the pain it had been holding out rushed in, nearly drowning him. For the first time since he'd realized the depth of his family's betrayals, he cried and truly felt it. The tears ripped at his heart and closed his throat.

When he'd cried himself dry, he felt empty. Curled up on the sofa, his face buried in the pillow, he took deep breaths and forced himself to look past his own pain. Breathing got easier as he made himself see past his own needs, past the easy selfishness of Gia, and see the gulf he'd allowed to grow between himself and Lucky. It had to be bridged.

Immediately.

He caught up with Lucky at Kelly's. His brother was hunched over a cup of coffee at a far table, oblivious to the world. Nikolas looked a question over at Emily, who shrugged helplessly and shot a worried glance over at Lucky. Interpreting it to mean his brother wasn't talking, Nikolas walked over and stood beside him, not saying a word.

Eventually Lucky twitched, as if coming back from very far away, and twisted to glare up at Nikolas. When he saw who it was the glare softened, but the underlying anger and hurt remained.

"Don't just stand there," Lucky grumbled. "Sit if you're gonna."

Nikolas did, not taking his eyes from his brother. "What happened? Can you talk about it?"

The glare was back full force. "What makes you think anything happened?" Lucky asked his coffee cup. Nikolas answered anyway.

"Because you look like you want to put your fist through a wall. Is it Jason?" Shot in the dark, and a bull's-eye, from Lucky's reaction. For an instant, Nikolas thought his brother was going to launch himself over the table at him.

"Why the hell did you lie to me, Nikolas?" Before Nikolas could blink, much less ask what on Earth Lucky was talking about, his brother plowed on. "Telling me Elizabeth wasn't upstairs with Jason, when she _was_. You and Gia, tag-teaming me, making me think it was all in my head when she was up there with him all the time!"

Nikolas squinted at Lucky, trying to make sense of the tirade. "What are you talking about, Lucky? She wasn't there. She wouldn't do that to you."

Lucky opened his mouth to yell some more, then looked harder at Nikolas and calmed down a degree. "You didn't know."

His bewilderment was plain. It matched Nikolas'. "Didn't know what? What are you talking about?" he repeated.

Lucky sighed, the sound coming from the depths of his soul. Nikolas leaned forward. "She was up there with him. I went up to his room trying to find him. To _apologize_." The words were bitter. "He wasn't there but he left his door unlocked. Pretty careless for a mob guy, huh?" The attempt at humor didn't override the anger. "Her gloves, from the photo shoot. They were on his desk."

Nikolas felt like he'd been sucker-punched. No wonder Lucky was off-kilter. He believed Elizabeth was cheating on him with Jason and lying about it. Believed that Nikolas was covering for her. Was still feeling the residual anger at his father for getting him caught up in the Spencer/Cassadine war and endangering Nikolas. He was isolated.

Ripe for the plucking.

His eyes widening, Nikolas leaned back in his seat and re-evaluated the timing of Luke's visit. It made sense. If ever there was a perfect time for his grandmother to attack, this was it. Lucky was more defenseless than he'd been at any time since he'd returned home. It was Nikolas' fault for being distracted with his own heartache and not noticing how vulnerable his brother had become. He was reaching out to cover Lucky's hand with his when a voice right next to the table startled them both.

"Lucky, Nikolas, can I get you anything?" Emily, looking concerned, big eyes bouncing from one to the other like an unhappy puppy, trying to help. Lucky ducked his head and didn't answer. Emily stared at him helplessly, then looked over at Nikolas.

"No, thank you, Emily," he responded on cue. "We're okay."

"Speak for yourself," Lucky mumbled. Nikolas quirked a grin at his brother's downbent head, then shook his head at Emily, waving her off. She eventually took the hint and stopped hovering.

"Come upstairs with me?" The question popped out before Nikolas could think of a way to phrase it more eloquently. Lucky's head rose and fierce blue eyes scorched him.

"Why? You think I need you?" Beneath the belligerence was a trace of the need Lucky was so determined to deny. Nikolas shrugged one shoulder.

"I need you. And yes," he answered softly, leaning forward over the table and returning the glare with an intense stare of his own, "I think you need me too."

He could see the denial on the tip of Lucky's tongue, and he reached over with one hand, tracing the edge of Lucky's knuckles with the tip of his finger. The words stuttered to a stop in Lucky's mouth. The heat in his eyes changed, mutating in that instant from anger and frustration to lust with more than a hint of love. Nikolas let his own want show, and Lucky growled under his breath.

Pulling his hand away, he tossed a five on the table and headed for the stairs, Nikolas on his heels. For once, Nikolas didn't give a damn what impression they were leaving on the rest of the customers in the diner, or what conclusions Emily might draw. Along with the wall being breached, so had all his defenses, and he needed Lucky as much if not more than Lucky needed him.

The door shut behind him and Lucky turned on him, pinning him to the door and leaning against him. Nikolas stared into the face so close to his every feature was fuzzy except for the clear blue heat of Lucky's eyes. The anger was still obvious in Lucky's expression, warring with desire. Nikolas deliberately relaxed his body, meeting his brother's aggression with understanding and invitation.

Lucky froze in place, hands locked in Nikolas' hair, breathing over Nikolas' lips. They stood there for long moments before the anger washed out of Lucky, leaving his expression soft and his body swaying against Nikolas. His fingers relaxed their death grip and trailed through Nikolas' hair, curving behind his skull and pulling his head forward until their mouths met.

Nikolas met his advance with restrained eagerness. There was more at stake there than simple passion. He had a bridge to rebuild, and he would use his body and his actions to remind Lucky how much he was loved. That he wasn't alone. To block any and all access Helena might have carved through the neglect of those who should have been protecting Lucky all along.

Beginning with Nikolas.

They moved together, steps coordinated by Nikolas, still kissing as they shuffled to the side of the bed. Once there, Lucky made to pull Nikolas to the mattress, and Nikolas stilled his movement with the gentle pressure of his hands.

"Slowly, Lucky," he whispered. He pulled the light blue tee shirt over Lucky's head, ruffling his hair playfully when it was free, coaxing a smile to his brother's too-serious face. The light touches of his hands as he stripped Lucky set the tone for the moment, freeing their passion but taming it with affectionate play.

At the juncture of hip and waist, the back of the knee, the small of the back, Nikolas took time to tickle, nip and stroke. Lucky twisted and jumped under his hands and mouth, laughing and moaning in turn. The small sounds and involuntary movements warmed Nikolas all the way through, crumbling the remains of his defenses and leaving him completely open to the love he needed to give, the love he was receiving in turn.

Lucky's hands were just as busy, pulling at his sweater, sliding down his trousers and into his shorts, teasing touches ramping the heat up without sending them over the edge. They fell together on the bed, wrestling to finish stripping one another, shoes, socks and shorts flying every which way. By the time they got one another naked, they were head to toe, and reaching out to lick and suck was the natural extension of their relative positions.

Nikolas nearly laughed as Lucky's hair brushed against his stomach, tickling him. Then Lucky's left hand caught his, clutching it between them as Lucky's right arm snaked around his hips to pull their bodies tightly together. As wet heat engulfed his erection, Nikolas ran his right hand between Lucky's parted thighs, along his ass, probing the opening there as he swallowed Lucky's cock greedily.

Too soon, he was too close. Lucky's tongue sliding over the head of his cock was distracting Nikolas from what he really wanted to do for his brother, so he unclenched his hand from Lucky's and tangled his fingers in Lucky's hair. Pushing him away literally hurt, but he pulled away in turn and looked down into Lucky's confused face. His hair was plastered against his forehead with sweat, and his lips were swollen and wet. Nikolas groaned involuntarily and Lucky beamed at him.

"Not yet, please." He tugged upward with his hold in Lucky's hair, and Lucky swarmed up his body, kissing as he came. Nikolas groaned again, then took Lucky's mouth in a fierce kiss. They were both breathless when they broke apart.

"What do you want?" Lucky asked him, the movement of his mouth against Nikolas' one of the most erotic sensations he'd ever known.

"I want you," he gasped as Lucky moved against him, cocks nudging one another, "to lie back and," another gasp as Lucky arched against him, trapping his balls against his thigh, "enjoy yourself."

"Oh, man," Lucky started to protest. Nikolas slid down his body before he could finish, untangling his fingers from Lucky's hair and using them to good effect on Lucky's nipples as he left open-mouthed kisses all the way down Lucky's chest. The next attempt at words was nonsensical babble that got louder as Nikolas plunged down on Lucky's cock, swallowing it to the root.

Nudging Lucky's thighs back apart, Nikolas caught sweat and saliva on his fingers then slid his hand back to its earlier resting place between the tensed buttocks to work at the clenching hole. He timed his probing fingers with swallowing around Lucky's cock, setting a rhythm that had his brother screaming into a clenched fist in no time. Lucky's other hand was kneading Nikolas' shoulder hard enough to leave bruises. Nikolas didn't mind.

Up, over, down and around, then he started the cycle all over again. Lips, suction, the graze of teeth over the vein and below the glans, slick of the tip of his tongue over the slit then slide all the way back down, sucking hard as he went. His fingers were buried to the knuckle in Lucky's ass now, scissoring apart. Lucky was bucking helplessly between Nikolas' mouth and his hand, muttering what sounded like muffled prayers into the palm of his own hand.

Opening his mouth wide, Nikolas slid it down the length of Lucky's cock, allowing saliva to sluice down over Lucky's testicles and back along the crease of his ass, wetting the working of his fingers in Lucky's hole. The muscle tightened then gave around them, tightened again then relaxed further as Nikolas lapped at Lucky's balls. Mouthing them gently, shifting them from side to side with his tongue, he closed his eyes and smiled internally at the hitch in Lucky's breathing and the complete incoherence of the mumbling above his head.

The balls under his tongue began to quiver, and he used his other hand to massage the top of Lucky's cock and his glans forcefully. Nikolas could feel Lucky's climax building, and he worked harder at the head of Lucky's cock with his hand, the tensing sac with his mouth, sucking gently. His other hand drove in hard, fingers stretching as far as they could, and Lucky howled, head falling back and hands flying out, catching the head board and hanging on for dear life as his body spasmed.

Nikolas drew back, hands still working his brother front and back, catching as much of the ejaculate in his palm as he could, watching Lucky's face as he came. His eyes were screwed up tightly, his mouth open, sweat streaking down his cheeks and temples. His lips were reddened, matching the flush in his cheeks that spread across his throat to his chest. He was incredibly beautiful. When he collapsed back against the sheets, Nikolas continued to caress him, bringing him down slowly from his orgasm.

Hazy blue eyes opened and stared up at him. A lazy grin played around Lucky's mouth. He looked relaxed, and happier than Nikolas could remember seeing him for some time. It had been too long since they'd been together. The sight of his brother's satiation caused Nikolas' own erection to ache. He leaned up to kiss Lucky's smile, then brought his sticky hand back between Lucky's thighs to join the hand still buried in Lucky's ass.

"Oh, yeah," Lucky murmured, spreading his thighs helpfully. Nikolas slid one hand out of Lucky's ass and slid the other in without pause, slicking Lucky's ejaculate into his hole. It was still pulsing with the aftershocks of Lucky's orgasm, and Nikolas moaned in concert with Lucky. "So good, man, so good. C'mon, Nikolas, put it in me now."

"For a guy who just had his mind blown, you're pretty pushy," Nikolas laughed at him. Lucky grinned back and rotated his hips, using the leverage of his heels against the mattress to push himself harder onto Nikolas' hand.

"Ask or you don't get," Lucky reminded him. Nikolas huffed a laugh that turned to a groan when Lucky reached out and ran two fingers down the length of his leaking cock.

"Don't touch or you won't have anything _to_ get," Nikolas warned him. Lucky immediately clasped his knees in his hands and pulled his legs back, exposing himself completely. Nikolas stared down at Lucky's body, the hole stretched around his fingers sucking at them like a hungry mouth. Every nerve in his body twitched. He worked his fingers out of Lucky's hole, lined up his cock and pushed it in with one strong thrust.

"Fuck, yeah!" Lucky gasped, releasing his knees to wind his legs around Nikolas' waist and clutching Nikolas' biceps instead. "Go on, man, do it!"

Not that Nikolas needed any encouragement. Fully seated, he rested there for a moment, then leaned down and kissed Lucky, grinding slowly into him. Lucky moaned into his mouth, tonguing him ravenously and shifting his hips, urging him wordlessly to move. Nikolas took his cue but set his own pace, slowly drawing out then slamming back in. He twisted his hips as he thrust, raking the head of his cock across Lucky's prostate, and gave a feral grin as Lucky's erection renewed itself.

What little was left of Nikolas' control finally broke and his rhythm became choppy as he thrust into Lucky's clenching heat. Lucky kept up uneven but enthusiastic verbal encouragement, one hand running up and down Nikolas' chest, the other working at his own cock. Nikolas felt his climax gathering and arched his back, coming hard enough to cramp all his muscles. When they relaxed, he collapsed, and caught Lucky's hand moving in the final blur as Lucky joined him in orgasm. Nikolas couldn't catch his breath, and the knuckles in the solar plexus as Lucky pumped himself didn't help.

"Ow," he complained weakly into the side of Lucky's neck. The explosive snort of laughter across the top of his head made him grin in return.

"Sorry 'bout that," Lucky murmured, more than half asleep himself.

"S'okay," Nikolas assured him, using the last of his strength to shift himself over to Lucky's side instead of splayed across him like a beached whale.

Lucky reached down and yanked at the corner of the sheet. Nikolas reached to help him, burrowing beneath the warm linen before wrapping his arms around his brother.

"Love you," he said softly to the ear partially covered by wild tufts of blond hair. Lucky's arms tightened around him in turn.

"You too," he said, or that's what it sounded like to Nikolas' fuzzy mind. Nuzzling into Lucky's shoulder, he smiled as he fell asleep.

Helena was to blame for many things, but every raging tornado had a silver lining. Lucky was his.

He woke very early the next morning, kissing Lucky awake. Lying side by side, they used their hands to bring one another off, kissing lazily the whole time. Dressing by the dim light coming through the window, he dropped a kiss on Lucky's nose and said lightly, "Get some more sleep, little brother. Call me if you need me." He dropped a second, deeper kiss on Lucky's mouth and grinned when he pulled away. "Or even if you don't."

Lucky was still chuckling, sprawled back against the pillows looking at him, as Nikolas let himself out and locked the door behind him.

A startled, quickly muffled squeak brought his head around with a snap. Elizabeth was standing in the hallway, her key in the lock to her door, staring at him in shock. Her hair was tangled around her face, her mouth was swollen, and her clothes were in disarray.

She looked a lot like he looked, only with beard burn instead of beard stubble.

He rubbed his jaw and looked at her. She blushed and looked back. He didn't say anything. Neither did she. He watched as she turned away, unlocked her room and let herself inside, still without saying a word.

The door closed behind her and Nikolas stood in the hall, staring at it for a long time. She knew. It hadn't surprised her. She knew and she hadn't said anything.

And she wouldn't. Because if she did, she'd have to say how she knew. Then she'd have to bring Jason into the mix, and neither one of them were going to do that. Lucky had enough to deal with as it was. This would not be added to his burden.

Nikolas turned and walked down the stairs, headed home for a shower and back to L &amp; B to finish the business Luke had interrupted the previous day. Gia slept through his noise. It was just as well. Elizabeth knowing was unavoidable. Gia knowing would be akin to putting high-powered explosives into the hands of a juvenile delinquent with a death wish.

 

The ringing of the telephone woke Lucky from an amazing dream. Fighting his way out from under the covers, his muscles protested, and he grinned. Not a dream, after all. Still amazing.

Snatching the handset up and nearly knocking the telephone onto the floor, he fumbled for a moment before getting it up to his ear. "Yeah? H'lo?"

"You have every right to be angry, my dear."

Helena's voice almost made him hang up, but for some weird reason he couldn't move. Then she started talking, and it all made sense, even though he couldn't tell afterward what she'd actually said. It didn't matter, not really. It was time that all the lies and all the manipulation stopped. Time to do what he should have done a long time ago and just make it all. Go. Away.

He didn't think about what he was doing. Couldn't think about anything. All he could do was feel, and all he could feel was rage. White hot anger ate at his belly and filled up all the black spaces inside him that had been prepared and waiting for the past year and a half. His mind shut off and the most primal part of him surfaced. It wanted blood.

It would get it.

No one talked to him on the bus. He didn't see anything beyond a few feet directly in front of him. He was primed, aimed and launched. Nothing could stop him at that point but death.

Walking through the front door of Deception headquarters, he didn't hear Gia's greeting. Didn't notice as he brushed past her and nearly knocked her off her feet. Didn't hear her pull a cell phone from her bag and punch a speed dial button.

"Nikolas, you better get your butt over here. Lucky's acting _really_ weird."

She was staring at him as the elevator doors closed. He didn't see that, either.

Carly was arguing with Elton when Lucky stepped off the elevator. He paid no attention to them. They weren't important. He rattled the knob to his mother's office. Eventually, Elton broke off his battle with Carly and fluttered over to him.

"I'm so sorry, Lucky, but she's not here yet. She'll be in momentarily if you'd like to wait."

Lucky didn't ignore him because Lucky didn't hear him. He rattled the knob some more.

"Hello, cousin, are you deaf today or just being moody as usual?"

Carly's voice whined in his ear like an annoying insect. Lucky stopped rattling the door knob long enough to turn and face her, blocking Elton out completely. The secretary's hands were waving in the air and his voice was droning on, but neither Lucky nor Carly paid any attention to him.

"Where is she?" Lucky's voice sounded strange in his own ears, as if he was speaking underwater. Carly gave him a guarded look.

"You okay, cuz? You don't look so good."

The fire flared inside him. His hand rose and lashed out without conscious thought, striking Carly along the side of the face and knocking her off her feet.

Elton shrieked.

Carly scrambled to her feet, one hand going to her bruised cheek, her eyes wide, as freaked out as she was angry. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The second time he hit her, she stayed down. Behind him, he heard Elton's voice on the telephone, pleading for it to hurry. Programmed response kicked in and he turned away from Carly, ripping the telephone from Elton's hand and throwing it across the room. He drew back his fist to punch Elton but the man yelped again and scuttled under the desk.

Lucky turned back to Carly, who was sitting huddled against the wall watching him, wide-eyed with fear. He walked toward her and asked in a perfectly flat tone of voice, "Where is she?"

"I dunno." She cried out as he grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet.

"Where is she?" he asked again. Carly started to shake. He could feel her body trembling against his side.

"Lucky!"

Her voice came from behind him. He dropped Carly carelessly, ignoring her now that his quarry was in sight. Laura stood just inside the foyer, staring at him in disbelief. He didn't notice anything or anyone else. Not Carly dragging herself to her feet behind him, not Elton bleating from beneath the desk, not the two shadows detaching themselves from behind Laura and stepping up beside her.

Only his prey.

The instructions were whispering through his brain. He was completely unaware of the tears now streaming down his face. He pulled the Bowie knife from the sheath inside his jacket and aimed himself at his target. Her eyes were impossibly huge, her mouth open as she cried, "NO!" over and over.

It would soon be finished. All the pain. All the rage. All the blackness eating him up inside.

One of the shadows moved, throwing itself between himself and his prey. Lucky tore his eyes away from his mother's terrified face and looked at Nikolas. His brother was screaming at him. Words battered him but they made no sense. Helena, and fight it, and please. The world shifted, the instructions twisted mid-stream, and the deadly meaning they held honed in on a different target. That which he loved most in the world.

That which he must destroy.

"I love you." The words choked him. He tasted tears. His hand moved, and Nikolas' eyes widened as the knife sank deeply into his side. Then the hands that had been shaking him fell away as Nikolas dropped at his feet. The knife remained in Lucky's hand. He smelled blood. "I love you," he told the body lying against his legs, then turned the knife toward his own gut and shoved inward.

More hands were on him, pushing him back, pulling at his arm. Getting in the way. Rage fought through him, nearly overcoming them, but there were too many hands. Too many voices. He couldn't fight them all.

The knife fell from numb fingers. His knees gave. Someone caught him before he joined his brother on the floor, but he didn't feel the arms holding him up. His eyes stared blindly at nothing. He didn't hear his mother crying, didn't hear Mac shouting questions or the paramedics bundling him onto a stretcher. He didn't fight the restraints because he didn't feel them.

Lucky's body went to General Hospital in the ambulance following directly behind Nikolas', but Lucky wasn't there any more. His rage and the programming that had fueled it had burnt out, taking his mind with them.

 

Intellectually, Stefan knew that Chloe would have nothing more to do with him. Emotionally, hope sprang eternal. He'd been able to glean some facts about Chloe's condition, and she'd told him to his face that she was fine (at the same time that she'd told him to go to hell and leave her alone) but he wasn't convinced. When she went to the hospital for purposes undisclosed, he followed, hoping for more information.

He refused to admit even to himself that he was stalking the woman.

Tony Jones had been at the Emergency admitting area, so Chloe had gone to talk to him there, and Stefan had followed. Alexis joined them and he stepped around the corner, trying to avoid being seen and having to answer inevitable, uncomfortable questions. His new position gave him a front row view of the chaos that ensued as two ambulances came tearing into the curving drive, medical personnel flying over from every direction as stretchers were unloaded and doctors shouted orders.

The sight of the body on the first stretcher displaced every thought of Chloe from Stefan's mind. It was his nephew Nikolas. Looking paler than any man with his Mediterranean complexion rightfully should. His clothing was covered in blood. He wasn't moving.

There was an oxygen mask over his face and bandages along his torso, stained crimson with freely flowing blood. Surely no single human could lose so much blood and still live. The paramedics were telling the doctor that it was a stab wound. Calling out vital statistics that sounded too low to be vital. Then words cut through the cacophony.

"We're losing him!"

White-coated bodies crowded around Nikolas' gurney as it was rushed from sight. Stefan moved instinctively to follow and was cut off by a second stretcher. He recognized that boy as well.

Lucky Spencer.

Blood on him, but no sign of a wound. Hands tied to the sides of the gurney. Head back, eyes wide open. Staring. Words were being bandied about over the top of his gurney as well. "Psychotic episode" and "catatonic" and "Doctor Collins."

It made a chilling sort of sense.

He watched as the medical personnel moved Lucky's also-unmoving form away, with much less dispatch than had been shown with Nikolas. There was no hurry with Lucky. He wasn't bleeding to death. He was simply a vegetable.

Stefan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He should have known it would come to this. Helena and her plans. They always backfired. Usually spectacularly, harming everyone and everything in their path. Opening his eyes again, jaw set, hands clenched to stop them from shaking, he moved determinedly along the corridor down which his nephew had disappeared. Rounding the corner of the nurses' station, he recognized Bobbie Spencer's voice. She was talking to another nurse outside the room where Nikolas had been taken.

"This is horrible. I can't believe it happened. I can't believe he didn't make it."

The words froze Stefan in his tracks, ringing the death knell on his hopes. His hopes for regaining his nephew's love and trust, his hopes for the future of his family, his hopes for everything. Gone in the single thrust of a knife, aimed at his heart by the instrument of his mother's insanity.

He had nothing left. Nothing at all.

Numbly, he turned and walked slowly from the hospital. He wasn't aware that he got in his Jaguar and drove to the docks. Wasn't aware when he walked along the wooden planking and boarded his mother's yacht. The first conscious move he made was when he caught her servant Andreas by the scalp and jerked, snapping his spine. Even that action was more instinct than decision. He left the body where it fell in the passageway. He opened the door to her study and walked silently up to where she sat at her desk, reading a letter.

"It's about time, Andreas, I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost," she chided without looking up.

"Lost," Stefan echoed faintly.

Her head came up and she stared at him, the flash of shock in her eyes gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Why, my darling son," she purred. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"You have destroyed everything," he said calmly. His voice sounded distant even to himself. She gave him an arch look.

"Such a romantic, my son."

"I have nothing left to lose." He walked closer until he stood beside her. She stared up at him, mock sympathy in her dark eyes.

"Laura wasn't much of a loss to anyone, my dear." There was an unseemly amount of amusement in her voice.

"You caused Lucky to do it."

She dipped her head once, a queen accepting her accolades.

"You made him kill Nikolas."

Her head snapped up so quickly she nearly overbalanced on the chair. "_What?_" She was staring at him in shock, her gaze as blank as Lucky Spencer's had been.

"You made Lucky Spencer into a weapon and you used him to kill Nikolas." With those carefully controlled words, Stefan reached out and crushed her windpipe with the fingers of his right hand. His left hand caught her chin and yanked it to the side, breaking her neck as well. She was dead before he finished the movement.

"Good-bye, mother," Stefan said quietly. Before he left the room, he rifled through her desk, taking with him several documents that would be of use should he decide to take control of the Cassadine empire, as well as a small timing device and a lump of gray clay in a metal box.

Taking a side trip into the engine room, he dragged Andreas' body down the steps and dropped it next to the gasoline tanks. He placed the gel atop the tank and set the timer for four minutes. Stepping over the dead man, he climbed wearily back up the steps and walked down the pier toward the docks.

The explosion buffeted his back with a concussion of noise and heat. He staggered slightly but kept walking. Ignoring the sirens coming from a distance, he pushed indifferently through the people streaming out onto the sidewalk from the various dockside businesses, gawking at the yacht that was sinking in a ball of fire beneath the surface of the water.

He didn't hear the feminine voice calling his name in a questioning manner. Couldn't hear anything but his mother's voice taunting him that she had won. She was in hell, now, where she belonged, but before he'd put her there she'd managed to take everything he ever loved away from him.

The gun that was never far from reach was out of his pocket and cradled in his palm without conscious thought. He stopped at a bench, overlooking the water, a few blocks away from the frenzy at the pier. Staring down at the pistol, he automatically checked the bullet in the chamber, then slowly raised it to his temple.

"Oh, my god, Stefan, what are you _doing_?" Chloe Morgan's voice broke through the haze of unreality and he started. The gun fell back into his lap and his finger eased off the trigger.

"Hello, Chloe." His voice was a normal conversational tone. She stared at him as if he'd grown another head. Then her gaze softened and she perched next to him on the bench. He was irresistibly reminded of a bird, alighting on a tree limb, staring bright-eyed at him.

"Why would you want to do that, Stefan?" He smiled slightly at the concern in her voice.

"Why not?" It wasn't a rhetorical question, and he could see she recognized that.

"Don't you think you've hurt Nikolas enough?"

His smile turned to a grimace of pain, and the laugh he forced out sounded like it escaped from the jaws of death. "I can't hurt Nikolas any more. None of us can." He had to swallow before he could continue. Vivid images of his nephew's body, covered in blood, still and unmoving, painted themselves before his eyes. "He's dead." His voice broke.

A small, warm hand covered his, then fingers wrapped around his own ice-cold hand. "Oh, Stefan." She sounded as if she was on the verge of tears. "Nikolas isn't dead. He lost a lot of blood, but they got to him in time, and he's going to be all right."

He was shaking his head before she finished. "No. I heard. He died. Bobbie said. They lost him. He died." Perhaps if he repeated it often enough she would finally understand. Then she would leave him alone so he could finish what Helena had begun. The decimation of the Cassadine line.

Her arms wrapped around him, and he breathed in deeply. He loved the smell of her perfume. Her voice was so close to him it felt as though it was inside him. "No, you're wrong. He's all right. Alexis and I saw him, Stefan. He's awake, he's alert. He's a little pale, and rather weak, but he's alive. He's anxious about Lucky, but he's okay."

It was beginning to penetrate the fog he was in that, somehow, a miracle had happened. He drew back far enough to stare into Chloe's face, searching it for the truth. Clear honesty shone back at him. He started to shake. Her arms tightened around him. His arms came up around her, and they sat there for a long time, holding one another.

Perhaps there would be a future, after all.

 

The fire had burned out, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. From a distance, echoing through the shadows crowding around him, Lucky heard voices. Female voices thick with tears. Male voices trying for authority, ending in the same tears the women cried. He wandered for a long time in the gray fog, hearing voices but not listening.

Not caring.

Nothing hurt anymore. There were no aching voids, no pits of blackness waiting to ambush him. There wasn't anything. No fire, no need, no light. He was cold but didn't bother shivering. The cold came from within his bones, from the inside out, so he accepted it as part of himself and kept wandering.

He was lost.

It didn't worry him. It was nothing. Being lost, being found, there was no difference. He didn't know where he was and he didn't care.

One of the voices sounded familiar. Elizabeth. An image shaped the fog, and he saw her. With Jason. He turned and wandered away.

Another came through to him. Kevin Collins. Some authority, more than a little pleading. He felt a twinge of sadness that he'd disappointed Kevin, but it wasn't strong enough to call him back. He kept wandering.

More voices. His mother's, which felt strange, somehow, as if she shouldn't be there. He didn't care enough to think why. Another, his father's. He waited for a little while, but the anger didn't come. It was gone, along with the fire, along with thought and place and need. He shrugged, stopped waiting, and wandered away again.

Other voices, his Aunt Bobbie, an irritating high drone that he turned from easily. His cousin Carly, even more irritating, but not enough to raise a response. He left again, wandering through nothing, lost and uncaring.

Heat suddenly bit him, and he stared down at his hand. He'd been able to see through it for days as it grew more and more transparent, a ghost staring through himself, but this time there was something blocking his sight. A band of heat, trapping his fingers. He tugged. It moved with him.

He heard another voice. He recognized it after a little thought. He stood very still and for the first time he listened. The heat around his hand intensified. It was impossible. The heat was impossible but the voice was even **more** impossible.

Because Nikolas was dead.

He knew it, because the one thing he knew in the vast nothingness around him was that he had caused himself to be alone. He had killed his brother, and that was why he couldn't leave the shadows. There was nothing waiting for him outside, to match the nothingness inside, so he might as well stay in the void.

Except … except the band of heat wouldn't go away, and the voice kept coming for him.

Perhaps he had gone insane? Was that what the vast emptiness was? There was no pool of blackness, no instructions whispering to him of destruction using Helena's voice, no raging inferno of anger. But there was also no love, no warmth, no need to continue onward. Because there was nothing to continue on toward.

Was there?

That voice, the voice that sounded like Nikolas except that Nikolas was dead, was asking him questions. Making demands.

Telling him that he loved him.

He?

Who?

The question pulled at him in a way none of the other voices had managed. He had to know who was using Nikolas' voice. The heat from around his hand was traveling up his arm, and he was becoming more solid the further it traveled. He couldn't wander any more. He was pinned in place.

The fog was thinning as he was thickening.

He made one last attempt to shake off the heat banding his fingers, then clenched them tightly when the heat receded. The near loss convinced him that he really didn't **want** to lose it. The voice faltered, and Lucky felt the first emotion he'd known since losing himself in the fog.

Panic.

He couldn't lose the voice. He'd nearly lost the heat, and with it, nearly lost himself completely. If he lost the voice there would truly be nothing left. He blinked eyes that had always been open, but this time when they cleared he didn't see shadows.

He saw his brother's face.

Warmth startled him, bursting through his mind as colors came back, as the world displaced the shadows. His fingers tightened around Nikolas', clutching back as hard as he was being held. A broad grin split Nikolas' face.

"Hey, bro'." Weak, but words. Words that meant something, to Lucky as he said them, to Nikolas as he heard them. Impossibly, the grin widened.

"Welcome back," Nikolas told him, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

Warmth spread through his body, clear down to his bones. He smiled back. The smile faltered as he saw tears gather in Nikolas' eyes. "Whassa matter?" His tongue felt thick.

"Thought I'd lost you," Nikolas muttered. "I thought Helena had won and I'd lost you."

"No way, no how," Lucky fired back, voice sounding as furry as his mouth felt. "You and me 'gainst the world, man."

Nikolas kept his grin through his tears, and brushed Lucky's hair away from his forehead, letting his hand linger against Lucky's skin. "Yeah. You and me. Always."

Lucky squeezed Nikolas' hand one more time, then closed his eyes and fell asleep. This time, there was no fog, no cold, and Nikolas was waiting for him when he woke up. It was more than enough. It was everything.

 

_Shattered, the final chapter. _

Lucky Spencer's world was shattered.  Elizabeth was in love with Jason, and Sarah had been only a pale imitation of her, barely missed when she left.  Emily was gone, in rehabilitation somewhere far away.  Nikolas was wound up with Gia, and there were so many ways he and his brother had fallen away from each other Lucky could barely begin to think they could ever find one other again.  Could ever connect again the way they once had.  The fab four were a wistful memory.

Yeah, Helena was gone, but in the end, she hadn't been the one to wreck his world.  A time bomb buried in his mom's memory, a weakness she'd passed on to him, and Laura was lost.  Lucky thought back to his own time, wandering in the fog, not caring, just hiding, scared to come out, and wondered if it was like that for her.  If she felt safe, now that she was someplace where the anger and the terror couldn't reach her  
Where Luke couldn't reach her.

And that had broken Luke.  Lucky stared down at the Last Will and Testament his dad had mailed to him, his hand brushing the surface of the paper, his fingers shaking.  Luke had tried to rescue his wife, but the woman he'd found was living in a nightmare from a quarter century before.  Long before Luke came into her life.  He couldn't save her when all she saw when she saw his face was the blood on her own hands.

Lucky could relate.  More than he could ever explain to anyone, and that's why he'd insisted to Nikolas that they didn't use drugs on her.  That they let her get strong, let her wander until she found herself again, as he knew in the deepest part of his heart that she would.  Nikolas had looked at him, and seen the pain Lucky kept hidden from everyone else, and agreed with him.  Laura  would find herself, then she'd go looking for Luke, then she'd come back to Lucky and Nikolas and Lulu and everyone who loved her.

Except maybe Scott Baldwin, because Lucky was going to kill him.  Bury him someplace dark and deep where he couldn't hurt anyone else in Lucky's family ever again.

Not that it mattered.  He poked at the will, the paper crinkling under his hand.  Because he was afraid, in that same deep part of his heart, that by the time Laura found herself, Luke would be dead.  When Laura hadn't known him, had turned on him and fought him and run from him, Luke had been devastated.  That was what the will meant.

He was saying goodbye.

Lucky had to find him.  Before he did something stupid, and wasn't there for Laura to find when she finally stopped hiding.

He wanted to find the old anger, the old fire, and use it to propel him out the door.  But his feet felt like lead, and his head felt all fuzzy, and he was so tired.  Not sleepy, just exhausted, like the most he could do was sit on his bed and run his hand over the will and stare at the wall.  Forever.

The fog was really tempting.  But he couldn't go there.  Couldn't retreat.  Couldn't leave Nikolas to rescue Luke again, while Lucky was left in the dark, because he wasn't all that sure Nikolas would rescue Luke.  Again.

His brain was running around in so many circles he felt dizzy when the key turned in the lock of his door.  Instincts kicked in and he almost jumped off the bed to lie in wait for the intruder ... but his legs wouldn't work, and his stupid hand wouldn't let go of the stupid will, and he didn't realize he had tears dripping down his face until the mattress next to him dipped down and Nikolas wiped the wet off his cheeks.

Lucky blinked, then stared past Nikolas at the door, closed and locked again.  He said, "That was fast."  His lips felt numb.  His tongue felt thick.

"Not really," Nikolas answered, his voice oddly gentle, the way it was a lot anymore when he talked to Lucky.  It used to really piss Lucky off, until he realized it wasn't fake, it was real.  And it was his own damn fault for making Nikolas unsure of himself, because Lucky was the one pushing him away.

Nikolas kept coming back.

Took Kristina dying for Lucky to figure that one out.  That didn't seem fair, either, but then life wasn't ever fair.  Or Lulu wouldn't be sitting at home crying for a mom and dad who were nowhere to be found, and Laura wouldn't be hiding away in the shadows in her own mind, and Luke wouldn't be giving up.  Nikolas wouldn't be having to pick up the pieces and Lucky wouldn't be having to go try to patch together what was left of his life.

"I called your name, but you didn't answer.  So I came in, but you just sat there, didn't say anything.  I figured something was up, and you probably wouldn't want all of Bobbie's lodgers to hear about it, so I closed the door.  Are you all right?"

Such a soft voice.  So much concern in those big eyes.  Too much distance between them, like Nikolas was afraid to touch him, as if he expected Lucky to hit him or run or scream if Nikolas laid a hand on him.

All Lucky's fault.  He knew it.  He hated it.  He couldn't stand it any more.

His mom was lost, for as long as she had to be.  His dad might already be dead.  His sister needed more than he could give her.  But Nikolas was right there, and Lucky wasn't about to let him go.

Nikolas' mouth was still open, he was saying something, but Lucky wasn't listening.  He twisted on the bed, turning into the soft touch on his cheek, shifting until his mouth was over Nikolas' and he could lose himself in the strength that had always been his brother to him.  Strength, and heat, and welcome, and a need as strong as his own.

They'd always gotten in trouble when they'd talked.  Their bodies were always more truthful than their words could ever be, because there was no room for pride or stupidity or anger when skin met skin.  Nikolas made a sound, muffled by Lucky's tongue, that might've been a protest.  Lucky paid no attention, because whatever Nikolas' mouth might say, his body was saying yes.

It was awkward, trying to get his clothes off and get Nikolas out of his without losing hold of one another, but they managed.  With a lot of sidetracking, to kiss and lick and nibble as buttons were opened and zippers were lowered, as cotton and silk and denim and wool were pushed off and away.  The blankets went on the floor along with their clothes as they twisted around one another, but that was okay, too.  As long as Nikolas didn't let go, Lucky wasn't worried about anything.  Couldn't be, while Nikolas was right there, while this was real.

In that moment, all there was in the world was Nikolas.  His hands on Lucky's hips.  His tongue tracing the length of Lucky's cock.  His dark, dark eyes fixed on Lucky's face.  The strength holding Lucky up and holding him through it, as he curled over, hands buried in Nikolas' hair, and came down Nikolas' throat.

Shivers went through Lucky, as Nikolas held him and soothed him, running his hands up and down Lucky's body like he was calming his horse, and Lucky had to smile at the thought.  Nikolas smiled back, but it was strained at the edges, and Lucky felt Nikolas move against him.  Reaching down, he caught Nikolas' hand and stopped the motion before Nikolas could come.  Then he wrapped his leg around Nikolas' body and rolled them both over until Nikolas was flat on his back, with Lucky straddling his hips.

"Don't waste it," he teased, voice husky, "that's mine."  He grinned down at Nikolas, who grinned right back up at him.

"Your call, Lucky," Nikolas whispered.

Lucky had to lean in and kiss him for that.  Nikolas took the kiss and opened it up, slid it from teasing to deep all the way to Lucky's heart, and the fear that had been gnawing there eased a little bit.  Lucky felt his throat tighten and his eyes start to tear up, but he fought it.  Nikolas caught the change in his mood before he could cover it.

"Is this okay?" he asked.  He sounded worried, his mouth curving down in a frown, brows drawing together, hands moving to hold Lucky away.  Giving him space Lucky desperately didn't want.

"Fuck me."  Lucky took back the initiative, cursing himself for hesitating and Nikolas for noticing, then cursing himself again for making Nikolas so unsure of himself even in this.  Reaching behind himself, Lucky lined Nikolas' cock up with his hole and shifted back onto it.  The head hurt going in, and Nikolas froze.

Not giving Nikolas time to change his mind, Lucky sat all the way down, hissing as the blunt force of the cock opened him up, fighting to take it all, even as Nikolas' hands clamped on his hips to try to pull him back up.

"Damnit, Lucky!" Nikolas spat through gritted teeth.  "I don't want to hurt you!"

"Then stop fighting it and just --" Lucky's breath left him in a rush as he felt Nikolas' balls against his ass, "fuck me already.  Oh, god, that feels so good!"  And it did, with the first burn past, as his muscles unclenched and Nikolas filled him.  Lucky rocked his hips a tiny bit, an inch, another, staring at Nikolas' face the whole time.

Pain, and pleasure, and tenderness mixed there.  The urge to protect, a hint of irritation at Lucky's heedless rush mingling with the light of laughter because, after all, that was Lucky.  All of it written in Nikolas' expression as plain as day for Lucky to read.  He grinned back in response.

"Feels like home," he muttered, and saw understanding light Nikolas' eyes before he began to move.  Then pure heat washed everything else away.

It had been too long since they'd connected like this.  Too many things got in the way, too many stupid things that didn't amount to much, really, in the big picture.  Girls, and money, and pride, none of which meant anything in the face of the fact that they loved each other.  There, at that moment, with Nikolas' body straining underneath him, with his ass full of cock and his cock caught in Nikolas' fist and his fingers clenched in Nikolas' hair, all the uncertainty and fear and emptiness disappeared.

Then Nikolas started shaking, his hips bucked up, his fingers tightened on Lucky's cock, and Lucky rode him as Nikolas came.  His thighs slipped on the sweat running down Nikolas' hips, his balls drew up at the pressure around his cock, and he could feel the come pushed back out of his ass with every convulsive thrust Nikolas gave.

It felt so damned good.  Lucky rocked with Nikolas, the motion of his body slowing as Nikolas came down from his high.  When those deep brown eyes opened again, Lucky pressed his hand against Nikolas' scalp until he was looking back at Lucky.  Then he wrapped his hand around Nikolas' fist and pushed it on his cock.  Pulled it back.  Pushed it again.

Everything splintered, not into the gray fog he hated, but into a million different colors, as he came all over Nikolas' stomach, with Nikolas' cock still half-hard inside him, arching his back and pressing his ass down as hard as he could.  Moaning Nikolas' name.  Connecting to Nikolas with his body, his words, his heart.

When he came back to himself, Lucky was curled up next to Nikolas, his head resting over the calming beat of Nikolas' heart.  His arms were draped around Nikolas' waist and their legs were tangled up together.  Warm hands rubbed his shoulders, carded through his hair, ran down his back.  He smiled, tongue flickering out to taste a drop of sweat on the silky skin.  Nikolas groaned softly.

"You okay?"  The words were mumbled against the top of Lucky's head.

"S'gonna be alright," Lucky slurred in response, already half-asleep.  All the tension, all the numbness, all the fear had been shaken out of him.  Now he could do what he had to do.

Tomorrow.

With his brother at his back, maybe Lucky could get to his dad in time.  Then maybe his dad could draw out his mom, in time.  And, eventually, his shattered world could be whole again.

  
_end  
_

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Incest, between two brothers who met for the first time as adults.


End file.
